


Never Come Back Down

by chooken



Series: Lending Me Your Love [2]
Category: Westlife
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Banter, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottoming from the Top, Brothels, Cigarettes, Coffee, Cohabitation, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Condoms, Consensual Kink, Conversations, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Fear, Fire, Food Sex, Foot Fetish, Friendship, Hangover, Harassment, Homophobia, Hugs, Humor, Kissing, Light Bondage, Love Bites, M/M, Marcky, Marking, Marriage Proposal, Morning Sex, Nail Polish, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, POV Alternating, Past Rape/Non-con, Police, Prostitution, Protectiveness, Reminiscing, Riding Crops, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Safer Sex, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Sex, Smoking, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Stalking, Television, Threats, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Character, True Love, Vandalism, Video Cameras, Voyeurism, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years into their relationship and Mark and Nicky couldn't be happier, but a series of escalating threats to their personal safety and livelihood may make them even stronger as a couple, even if it tears them down first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

“Good morning.”

Mark had just realised that he hadn't said it yet. Not that he'd had time to. He'd woken up with Nicky's tongue in his arse, and apart from being a little bit grateful that he'd slept on his front, he hadn't been able to do much else in the way of thinking. But now, with Nicky taking a moment to roll on a condom, he had his own moment free to collect his thoughts.

There was a hoarse chuckle over his shoulder. A sound that, after three years, was still the best thing in the world.

“Good morning.” Gentle hands stroked down his hips, urging them up a little bit so Nicky could shove a pillow under him. Mark sighed happily, trying to resist the urge to rub his increasingly sensitive morning erection into the cotton.

Then Nicky's tongue was back in his arse and he didn't have much of a choice.

“Fuck, Nicky...” His hands clenched on the pillow under his head, hips rutting shameless against the cotton. “That's so good...”

There was that hoarse laugh again. It vibrated through him, twanging every nerve on the way past. Okay, no, that was the best thing in the world. That tongue, twisting and tickling his entrance, two fingers pushing into his arse, the tongue flicking between them like some sort of spastic pinball. And the stretch. Fuck. Three fingers now, tongue barely touching the sides, just diving straight in. Mark was perversely reminded of watching Nicky lick the last bits of icecream out of the bottom of a cone, and yeah, he was never going to be able to eat icecream with Nicky again.

Then it was gone, and Mark moaned his disappointment. Then Nicky was moving, and oh fuck...

“Good morning.” Nicky muttered, lips moving against the swell of Mark's back, mouthing the bottom of his shoulder blade. All Mark could manage was a broken giggle. He wasn't really a giggler, but Nicky was always good at bringing out new talents in him. “You feel really good.”

“I feel great.” Mark agreed, pushing back a little bit, letting himself relax into Nicky's girth. He'd always been a little bit concerned that he'd loosened up over almost a decade of constant daily sex, but Nicky had always been able to fill him up, the stretch stark and brilliant every time. Maybe it was a size thing – Nicky wasn't exactly small – but somehow Mark didn't think so. It was just Nicky, who knew exactly how to touch him, how to push him, give him something he couldn't get anywhere else. Who made sex something he wanted to do, even when it was all he did almost every day.

Nicky, who knew him inside out, who knew when he just needed to be held, or to be left alone, or when he needed to be woken up with a tongue in his arse. Who made it about him, always about him. Yeah, they both just needed to get off occasionally, but when Mark looked down into those eyes and saw that Nicky wouldn't want to be getting off with anyone else, that was more than worth it.

Nicky, who was nuzzling into his back with a happy sigh, fingers stroking his sides, pulling all the tense muscles and making it impossible not to relax. Mark crossed his arms, resting his forehead on his wrists and pushing back, feeling impossibly fluid.

“I could stay here forever.” He murmured, not really meaning to say it out loud. It was all he could think, though, and subconsciously he figured Nicky should probably know.

Nicky hummed an agreement, sitting up a little bit to get some purchase, his knees cradling Mark's hips, the hair on Nicky's legs tickling him. “I won't move, then?”

“Do what you like.” Mark teased, gasping when he felt Nicky shift. “Or do that again.”

“This?” Another tiny little thrust, just enough to make Mark very aware of Nicky's presence. Barely a tickle, but it was setting his skin alight, Nicky's mouth back on his shoulders, the dual sensations confusing his senses. Hands insinuated themselves under his sides, stroking his belly but not getting close enough. He rubbed himself into the pillow, hearing the gasp when the movement shifted them again. “Oh fuck.” Nicky whispered. “Stop that, or I'm going to come.”

“You don't want to?” Mark did it again, feeling the twitch, the groan.

“Not yet.” Teeth bit down into his side, just below his ribs, making Mark squirm. “Stop it. Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Mark forced himself to relax again, feeling hands begin to stroke his back, soothing. “I love you, Nick.”

“I love you.” Warm palms, kneading him like clay, pushing into his lower back and forcing him harder against the pillow. It was really really hard not to wriggle, to push against something. He could feel himself leaving trails on the pillow, on his own stomach, as he got closer to the edge. Sticky trails that just made the friction more unbearable. “How close are you?”

“Really close.” Mark admitted, glancing over his shoulder, taking in the bright eyes, flushed cheeks. He reached out, taking one of Nicky's hands from the small of his own back and tugging him forward, feeling Nicky blanket him, his front fitting perfectly to the shape of Mark's back and shifting their position enough to make Mark groan in unison with Nicky's whimper. Hair tickled his cheek, Nicky's face nuzzling into his neck. He sucked two fingers into his mouth, teasing them, felt the reaction, the way Nicky twitched inside him.

“Stop. Mark, I...” Nicky grunted, free hand steadying himself on the bed. “Fuck, oh god, too late, I can't...” And then he was coming, crying out, hips beginning to move again, bracing himself with one hand, the other leaving Mark's mouth and clamping onto his shoulder for purchase, his arms trembling while he fucked Mark through his orgasm, his thrusts rough, desperate. Mark cried out, pushing back, not able to get enough friction on his erection, not able to get a hand underneath with Nicky on top of him, just mindlessly humping the pillow while Nicky came all around him with bitten off, barking gasps.

“Nicky, please...” He heard himself whimper, feeling pitiful even before the words were out of his mouth. A hand pushed underneath him even as the thrusts slowed, Nicky yanking him up to his knees and stroking, Mark's balls crushed between his thighs, tight and full, almost painful. He buried his face in his arms, feeling Nicky's fist bump his stomach on the upstroke, tensed when he felt Nicky begin to slip out, tried to hold him there as long as possible.

“You're so beautiful.” He heard Nicky whisper, and that was it. He wasn't even aware of biting the pillow, of pushing back, of the noises coming out of his own mouth. All he could do was slap a hand down on the bed and feel himself erupt, feel himself fall apart into Nicky's hand.

He choked out a laugh. Nicky was kissing his back again, holding him. Unsheathing the condom with his free hand and pressing himself into Mark's skin, nibbling his shoulders and pulling out the cushion. Mark groaned when he flopped forward, too sensitive against the sheets.

“Good morning.” Nicky murmured.

 

*

 

“Hey.” Nicky already had two mugs of coffee on the table when Mark came out, knowing from the bleary way Mark had stepped into the shower that he would probably need it. Neither of them had to work until later in the day. Shane was keeping an eye on the morning crew, and Nicky was kind of looking forward to stumbling in at one in the afternoon, especially after working the whole day yesterday.

Maybe he was getting soft. Not three years ago, he wouldn't have blinked at working from open to close, seven days a week. Not that it had been exactly good for him, but it was just what you did, especially when you were struggling, and the boys had done it too, working from nine in the morning until almost midnight, taking whatever business they could get, keeping their heads above water. It seemed a long time ago now.

Now he only did it twice a week on Shane's day off and, if he was honest, it was knackering. Maybe he was just getting old. He'd be passing thirty later on in the year, a milestone Mark had taken no small delight in teasing him for. The dirty old pimp fucking his sexy young whore. Nicky couldn't wait until Mark turned thirty. Karma was a bitch.

They'd discussed hiring someone else in to cover them on their days off, but Nicky had resisted. The place had always been his. After a few false starts and a bit of negotiating, it had been Shane's as well. Nicky didn't want it turning into the Tescos of brothels, where some faceless owner popped in every now and then to rile everyone up and then let middle-management get on with it. It wasn't his style. Shane didn't seem to mind. And the boys were always willing to help with anything if they were under the pump. So to speak.

Mark sat across from him, slumping into a chair in his boxer shorts and a ratty t-shirt, hair still plastered across his forehead from the shower. He looked beautiful, yawning and pouring himself a bowl of cereal from the box Nicky had left on the table.

It was nice, this. Their own place. Knowing each others' routines. Knowing what cereal to put out, how Mark liked his coffee, knowing that if Nicky left his keys on the coffee table when he stumbled in drunk and half asleep that they'd be on the hook by the door when he went looking for them the next day. Sitting in their underwear, flicking through channels on the TV and picking something he knew Mark would want to watch.

“Okay?”

“Just sleepy.” Mark yawned again, not bothering to cover his mouth. Nicky could see tonsils. “I was all ready to get up, and then you tired me out again.”

“I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible person.”

“You are. I don't know how I'm going to get through today.”

Nicky reached out to squeeze his hand, not able to resist it. Mark grinned at him, one of those big, open smiles that still made his heart do little backflips, and shoved a huge spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Will you cope, do you think?”

“I'll have to.” Milk dribbled down his chin. Nicky reached out to catch it, licking it off his finger. “Probably shouldn't have let you. You've ruined me for the rest of the day.”

“You let me, did you? I didn't think I gave you much of a choice.”

“I'm sneaky like that. Part of the job.” Mark squeezed his hand, as if to let him know it was a joke, that Nicky could never be just a job. It was okay, Nicky already knew. “We got much on today?”

Nicky picked up his phone. He'd had a program installed on it, both he and Shane had, hooked back in to the computer in the office, with rosters that updated automatically. It was handy. Nicky sometimes felt these touches were a little bit extravagant – he had been used to just pinning it all up on a corkboard. But then at the time he'd only had himself, Shane, Kian and Mark to worry about organising. Now he had eight full time boys and four moonlighters he could call in on occasion for busy periods. He actually had busy periods. More and more of them lately. It was all for the best, he knew, but he couldn't help but sometimes feel a little bit overwhelmed. It had gone from him sleeping in the back, working all hours of the day, and barely paying the bills or seeing the sunlight, to taking two days off a week, having his first long-term relationship since he had been sixteen and passing for straight, and owning not only a thriving business, but a house he could share with someone he was pretty sure was the love of his life.

He was lucky. He could admit that. There'd been a lot of hard work, a lot of sacrifice, and he'd never sell himself short on that front, but the one-two punch of Shane and Mark, at just about the lowest point in his life, had been a godsend. Nicky wasn't sure which god he'd blown in an earlier life, but he was seriously grateful.

“You've got a two-thirty, and then there's a few undecided coming in in the afternoon, so take something nice to wear, there'll probably be a line-up or two.” They had a lot more walk-ins these days, and while it was a little bit less easy to organise it was nice to know they didn't just have to rely on the concrete appointments to get by.

“This isn't good enough?” Mark looked down at his t-shirt. It had a stain of indeterminate origin on the sleeve. “I'd fuck me in this.”

“I might hold you to that.” Nicky laughed, the image of Mark in nothing but that t-shirt, stroking himself, suddenly clear in his head. It was a bit nice. “But maybe something a bit cleaner, yeah?"

“Slave driver.” Mark was starting to look a bit more awake now. He sipped his coffee. Nicky had only put one spoonful in, he knew Mark didn't like having too much when he had to work, or a full stomach, in case he had to run for the bathroom. Not that Mark didn't like to eat. They'd gone on holidays for two weeks over Christmas and Nicky had watched Mark work his way through the whole room service menu and cocktail list over the course of about four days. Then he'd spent the rest of the holiday in the gym. Nicky hadn't minded. He'd liked it when Mark had gotten a little bit squishy. He was all soft and snuggly. Not that he had ever been skinny. It wouldn't have suited him anyway. And as Mark was getting older he was getting more bearish, less of the big-eyed cute kid Nicky had hired a few years ago. He was still big-eyed, but now it was in a confident, predatory way that made Nicky weak at the knees. “Nicky?”

“Huh?” Nicky realised he'd been staring into space. “Sorry, what?”

 

*

  
Mark reached out across the table, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Nicky's cheek, smiling when Nicky turned to kiss them. Just a casual little thing, but it made Mark's heart flutter, even more when he knew Nicky probably didn't even realise he'd done it. It was just natural, completely automatic.

“Are we still going to visit your parents?”  
  
“Yeah.” Nicky kissed the fingers again, nipping them lightly this time and giving Mark a cheeky smirk. “Friday. Still coming?”

“Only if the boss gives me the day off.”

“I'll have a chat to him.”

He liked Nicky's parents. They were pretty cool about the whole thing. They had more or less made peace with what Nicky did for a living, though Mark wasn't sure at first that they were completely happy with their son dating someone in his line of work. He could understand that. His parents hadn't been all that content with his choice of profession – they'd had images of seedy alleys and getting raped and murdered in the back of an unmarked station wagon. But they couldn't deny the fact he was happy and safe, and meeting Nicky had seemed to help, knowing that someone was looking out for their son. He wasn't exactly going to give them a guided tour of his workplace, but they seemed to be settled with the idea. Profession aside, it was probably a bit weird to think of your firstborn having sex in any capacity.

They spent the rest of the morning chilling out and watching TV. Around eleven, Mark went to clean up. Not that he was all that concerned, he'd gone to the bathroom earlier and Nicky certainly hadn't had any complaints when he'd been eating him out that morning. But still, it was a courtesy thing. He had a nine hour shift coming up, would be getting fucked at least four times before the end of the day if the last couple weeks' traffic was anything to go by. The appointment at two-thirty wasn't an issue. It was just this bloke, Ty, who was coming back for a repeat performance. Mark vaguely remembered him – they still had his name on the books from his first appointment back in October, so Mark had skimmed the security tapes for a bit of facial recognition – and four months later he was coming back again. It was kind of flattering, he guessed, though it had been a bit weird watching himself on the screen. Nicky liked watching, he knew that, even encouraged it sometimes because it made for pretty explosive sex. But watching his own arse bobbing around with a stranger on top of him was sort of odd.

They'd all seen their own tapes, most of them at request. Sometimes Nicky or Shane would keep particularly interesting ones and play them back, which was a bit like working at a call centre. 'Your fuck video may be recorded for training purposes'. They could probably make a mint if they blurred the faces and sold them on the internet, if it wasn't for the fact that most of them were pretty boring. Mark couldn't count how many times he'd sat around before pretty perfunctory sex and feigned interest in a sob story about how a client wasn't gay and how much he loved his kids. Some of them were genuine, really nice guys struggling with their own sexuality and he didn't mind those, it was the excuses that got to him. The ones that tried to justify what they didn't really feel guilty for.

Not that Mark was in a position to judge anyone's guilt. He just felt sorry for the wives and the kids.

“I love you.”

Mark loved it when Nicky said that. It had taken bloody long enough to get him to that point. Nicky was all walls and defences, but Mark couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed peeling back the layers, finding all the little quirks that made Nicky who he was. It had been lust at the start, some mutual respect, and a lot of emotional need. They had both been in difficult places. Nicky was a fortress of professionalism hiding how much he was struggling through every day, and Mark was trying to feel safe again after being assaulted by a client, needing somewhere to belong, someone to take care of, to focus on. Not a distraction, just a new beginning, somewhere to start again.

“I love you too.” He stretched up for a kiss, then rested his head back on Nicky's chest. Nicky was stretched out on the couch, back propped against the armrest, while Mark lay full-length on top of him, trying desperately not to doze off. “I'm not squashing you?”

“You are a bit.” Lips pressed to his forehead, fingers running through his hair.

“Want me to move?”

“Definitely not.”

Mark smiled to himself, snuggled in and closed his eyes.

This was bliss.

 

*

 

The place was more or less quiet when they arrived. Mark was still yawning a bit, having fallen asleep and only waking when Nicky's left leg fell asleep and his right leg cramped up, leading to an awkward, spasming jolt that had pushed Mark right off the couch with a yelp and onto the floor, cracking his shin off the coffee table. It had been a stupid, painful, ridiculous moment, and from the outside it probably looked hilarious. From the inside it looked hilarious too. Mark had been more or less unharmed, laughing hysterically while Nicky limped around the living room, trying to get his legs to work right.

Mark wandered off to say hi to people. There were a few boys gathered in the main room visible off the reception hall. It had been Nicky's idea to have them there when they weren't on jobs, just to create a bit of atmosphere when people walked in. Shane had agreed. It seemed to work so far, and there was nothing so infectious as the laughter of three sexy boys, now four with Mark here, all hanging out together, waiting for a shag. Nicky waved at them on the way past.

“Hey Nix.” Shane was standing behind the desk, bent over to look at something on the computer. “Alright?”

“Pretty good.” Nicky collapsed behind his own desk. It was the same one he'd always had, the dark wood getting more scratched and faded as the years went past. He was loathe to part with it though. It was like a good luck charm, something to remind him that things didn't always go to plan, that he needed to appreciate what he had. Not that things were hard to appreciate. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure everything was real. “Good morning?”

“Not bad.” Shane nodded, sitting down in his own chair and swivelling a bit from side to side. “Anton's upstairs with a client. I've got Noah about to start a two o'clock, and Jeremy's cleaning up. Pretty clockwork. Mark's got a two-thirty.”

“Who's on reception? There was no-one at the desk.”

“Annie called in sick. I've been getting the lads to greet anyone that comes in until I can get out there. I've been trying to sort out everyone's availability. You wouldn't believe the amount of holiday requests I've got. You two still need Friday off?”

“If we can swing it, yeah.”

“That's fine. Ollie's been asking for more shifts so he can do Mark's. Can you work the weekend for me?”

“I guess. What's on the weekend?”

“Helping my cousin move. I wasn't going to, but he said I get to drive his car. It's a really nice car.”

Nicky laughed, balling up a blank piece of paper from his printer tray and hurling it at Shane's head. Shane caught it, tossed it back. They started up an idle game of catch, just picking apart a few jobs and making plans. Nicky liked this, with Shane. They had a rhythm, a way of compromising that didn't feel like compromise. He thought maybe if things had been different he might have asked Shane out, but it had never really come up. Shane liked being single anyway, had had a few boyfriends, but nothing particular had come of it. He liked kids, Nicky knew he'd love to be a dad, but the relationship bug hadn't really caught him, so that was probably a bit of an abstract dream. Although with six brothers and sisters, it wasn't like he didn't have a ton of nephews and nieces to play with.

And Nicky had Mark.

Life was pretty good.

“How are the doctor's notes coming?”

“Got most of them yesterday. Just waiting on one.” Nicky tossed the ball back, watched Shane fumble it. _“_ Mark's got his on him, I'll file it later.”

“You haven't gotten the poor kid riddled with disease yet?”

Nicky laughed, pegging the ball extra hard. “You think I'd risk it if he was?”

“I think you'd climb a mountain of herpes sores if it meant touching his arse for five seconds.”

“Gross.”

“But true.”

It wasn't, not really. They were both really diligent when it came to safety. In this business you couldn't be any other way. One unnoticed rash, one pinhole in a condom, and you were at risk of something pretty irreversible. Nicky would admit that he'd more than once sat with bated breath, waiting for Mark's results, sure that there would be some abnormality, that the guy that had come on Mark's face had given him something horrible. It did happen. One of Bryan's guys had had to be let go when he'd ended up with bad cold sores after a one night stand. It hadn't even been on the job, just a stupid drunken fling, but he was out the door. And that was the least of it. Nicky didn't know anyone who'd contracted anything really bad, but you heard the stories, of people who slipped on one precaution, then spent the rest of their life on medication, terrified of catching the smallest sniffle. It wasn't necessarily a death sentence, not any more, but it certainly wasn't something he wanted happening to anyone he cared about. Especially Mark.

“I'm still waiting on Connor.” Nicky confirmed. “He promised he's going today, but I don't want him getting any jobs until the results come back. This is the second time he's been late.”

“You think something's up?”

“No, I just think he's lazy.” Nicky missed. The ball rolled into the corner, so he left it. Shane shrugged, turning back to his computer. “If he can't get himself organised, that's his problem. I like the kid, but I'm not chasing him around.”

A head poked in. “Guys?”

It was Blarney. Kian had coined the name - his real name was Oisín, but he never fucking stopped talking. He'd been with them for a few months, was a good worker. A cute, fine-boned twenty-two that looked all cute and sweet, with fluttering eyelashes, floppy black hair, and an angelic smile. Then he opened that mouth, and it all went to hell. Swore like a sailor, too.

“There's a bloke here for Noah. Mark's helping him.”

“Coming out.” Nicky stood up first, waving at Shane. “I got this.” Shane nodded, flicking the security monitors on. As Nicky walked out, he gave them a quick glance over his shoulder. Everything seemed fine.

 

*

 

Mark was booking in Noah's appointment when Nicky came out. A pretty nondescript middle-aged man in an ill-fitting brown suit. Noah was all over him, flirting up a storm. Noah was a tallish guy, built like a surfer, with a slight London accent and close-cropped brown hair. Mark was pretty sure he had a thing for Nicky, had seen the flirty smiles and glances, and knew Nicky was aware of it too. They'd talked about it, but Mark hadn't really been that concerned. Nicky could have anyone he wanted. He wanted Mark.

“All good?” Mark nodded.

“Yeah, you want to take over?”

Nicky did, settling onto the stool Mark vacated and starting to type the customer's details in, printing out the invoice to read over. It was being printed to the room as well, to a small printer in a cabinet near the bed, so the guys could check exactly what was being paid for before they got started. It was pretty standard, just itemised costs, a safe-sex declaration, consent to be checked for rashes and irregularities before the start of the session. They were all trained to do that themselves. It was mood-breaking enough to have your bits inspected with a harsh white lamp by the guy you were about to fuck, let alone by some manager before you'd even got in. Some of the guys were pretty casual about it, had a knack for not making it feel like a doctor's appointment. Mark didn't mind it, it was just kind of inconvenient.

Mark went back in to sit down with the others, curling up at one end of the couch and stretching his legs out. He still had ten minutes or so. Jeremy and Blarney were playing a game of cards while Blarney babbled a mile-a-minute about some action movie he'd seen on the weekend, pretty much re-enacting every fight scene and explosion in the process. Jeremy was laughing along, bleached hair still a little bit damp from the shower, blue eyes twinkling over his broken nose. He was a big guy, lots of muscles and a few pretty good scars to show for a difficult adolescence. He'd been a gamble – he'd had a lot of anger over an abusive dad and a series of bad experiences hustling on the street – but had paid off. He was just a sweet guy with a big laugh and an almost zen acceptance of anything thrown at him.

Neither of them were due in for another hour – Nicky and Shane had installed a policy of forty-five minute breaks between each session. If the guys wanted to accept more clients closer together, that was fine, but they wouldn't be booked in as such unless they'd specifically asked for it. Mark remembered the old times, of fourteen hour days, back to back fucks. This was practically a holiday.

Liam was sitting in an armchair in the corner ofthe room, sketching. He was always sketching. It was very Moulin Rouge, the tortured artist selling himself until the world could see his true genius, drinking every night and sobbing over his work. Except Liam was from Cork, not Paris, and would rather down a shot of wheatgrass than absinthe. He was always rabbiting on about something to do with raw vegetables or antioxidants or something, his black-rimmed glasses practically steaming up with an almost religious fervour. He was at university, studying modern art. And he wasn't at all pretentious about it.

“What you working on?”

Liam turned the pad around to show him. It was quite a good sketch of Jeremy, the black lines capturing the shadows under the almost-white messy bed-hair .

“That's very good.”

“It's not bad.” Liam hunched over his pad again, scribbling away. Mark shrugged. He'd never quite clicked with Liam, though he knew Shane liked him. There wasn't any animosity, they just didn't have anything in common.

“Mark?”

Nicky was leaning into the room. He dropped a wink when Mark looked up, gave him one of those great smiles meant only for him.

“Ty's here.”

“Great!” He tried to sound extra upbeat, knowing the guy could probably hear him from the hall. And when he went out, yeah, he was getting a smile. He grinned back. “Good to see you again.”

“Er... yeah. You too.” The guy blushed a little bit, obviously pleased. Mark put a hand on his shoulder, steering him toward the stairs. He glanced at the printout Nicky was holding. There'd be a copy printing out in the room upstairs anyway, but it was nice to give himself a bit of a heads up in advance. Nothing crazy, just a blowjob and fuck, same as last time. Nicky gave him another wink on the way past.

 

*

 

Shane went out for lunch while Mark was upstairs, so Nicky popped in to do the checks, secretly glad of the timing. After three years, he still loved to watch Mark fuck. It was an art. He had a talent for it, a way of making every client feel special and wanted. Nicky had never been able to master it himself, knew he'd been huffy and sarcastic at the best of times, even when he was in the middle of sucking a dick. He had the mechanics down, but the passion had always been hit-and-miss.

Mark had a way of looking at you that made you turn inside out before he'd even touched you.

Nicky watched for a moment, laughing when Mark sat down on the bed and yanked Ty forward by his hips, opening his mouth cheekily to accept the length of his cock. It never looked like a chore, not when Mark was doing it.

He was back at reception when Mark came down, flushed and giggly, nudging the client lightly like they were old friends. He showed him the door quickly, came back over to lean on the front of the desk, resting his chin on his hands.

“You watch?”

“Nah.” Nicky lied. “Busy. Look at me, working.” He moved his stapler to the other side of the desk, shuffled some papers.

“Thought you were supposed to watch? Safety and that?”

“Might've looked in for a second.”

Mark headed back to the front room, laughing over his shoulder.

The rest of the afternoon passed quite slowly. They all had jobs. Liam got picked when a client walked in and just asked to browse for a second. Nicky thought he'd go for Anton at first, he definitely checked him out, with his sandy hair, relaxed stubble, and plentiful tattoos, but in the end Liam had flirted just that little bit more and stolen it out from under him. Anton scowled, but didn't seem to mind too much. He had an appointment lined up in an hour anyway, so it would have been back-to-back sessions. Rowen, their resident dominatrix, came on at four and went straight upstairs with one of his regulars. Noah had two more sessions, then went home around six-thirty, Jeremy trailing in his wake. Shane popped off not long after, leaving Nicky to man the reception desk, hoping that Annie would be back the next day. She was a nice girl, and he was sorry she was sick, but running back and forth from the hall to the office to do safety checks was getting a bit exhausting.

A shy ginger kid with thick glasses came in, and Mark took him upstairs for rough, angry sex that thumped on the ceiling above Nicky's head. He'd been a little bit concerned, but when he checked the monitor it was Mark on the giving end, pressing the kid's face into the pillow and fucking him hard, scratching fingernails down his back, growling something in his ear. When they came back downstairs, the kid looked very relaxed.

The maid came in, did all the laundry that had been accruing through the day. Nicky remembered when that had been Mark's job. When Mark had come into his life in a flurry of laundry, coffee, and thunderstorms.

Blarney popped off around nine, leaving Anton, Rowen, Liam, and Mark to sit in the living room during a rare lull, watching TV and eating a plate of vegan cookies Liam had brought in. Nicky tasted one. They were alright, but nothing compared to a cheeseburger. Rowen had just finished reapplying his makeup – he liked to really play up the gothic punk bondage angle, with short, half shaven black hair and lots of piercings through... just about everything. It wasn't really Nicky's thing, but he was good at what he did. Nicky wouldn't let him get into anything mad, like knives, or anything that was like to draw blood or cause a lawsuit, but the kid could wield a riding crop like an artist. He was currently in the process of painting Mark's toenails dark blue.

“You improving him, Ro?”

Rowen looked up, gave him a crooked smile through a pierced lip.

“I don't need improving.” Mark teased. “I'm perfect.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow, watching Mark wriggle his toes and Ro squawk for him to keep still. For all his tough dominatrix persona, Rowen really could be an old woman when he wasn't in the act.

By the time they closed, Anton had had three more and Mark two. Rowen gave Liam a lift home about ten after Liam finished up his last session. Nicky suspected there was something going on between those two, but didn't feel the need to question it. It wasn't really any of his business.

He locked the door at 11:04. Mark was looking sleepy. By the time they got into bed, he was almost asleep.

“Big day?”

Mark mumbled an assent, curling into Nicky and breathing in deep. Nicky held him, feeling sleep start to itch at his eyes.

Life couldn't possibly get any better than this.


	2. Tuesday

Shane and Kian were already there when they got in that morning, standing in front of the house with their arms crossed over their chests, looking seriously pissed off. Nicky was pretty seriously pissed off as well, had been since he'd been woken at six by Shane's call.

It was about as bad as he'd said. There, on the front of the bricks and across the window, six-foot high in pink letters, next to a lopsided and badly proportioned cock, were the words 'faggot whores'.

“You have to give them points for creativity.” Shane sighed. “How long do you think it took them to come up with that?”

“About as long as it's gonna take to put a fist through their heads.” Kian growled. “Fuckers.”

Nicky reached out. The paint was already dry to the touch. It was going to take all day to get this off.

“We could keep it as advertising.” Shane suggested. “Put some Christmas lights around the dick. Like a billboard.” Kian laughed. So did Nicky, he couldn't help it. “Business as usual?”

“Of course. I'm not losing money because some eejit figured out how to use a can of spraypaint.” Nicky kicked the bricks lightly, as though he could somehow scare six feet of homophobic slurs off the wall. Mark put a hand on his shoulder, knowing without asking that Nicky needed a bit of steadying before he threw a punch or burst into tears. “Kian, go get a bucket of water. There's bleach under the sink. We've got three hours until opening, let's see what we can do with this.” He reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, handed a fifty to Mark. “Go down to the hardware place and get some paint thinner.” Mark kissed his cheek before heading to the car. Nicky didn't have time to appreciate it, but it was still nice. He watched Mark go, then turned his gaze back to the wall.

It was painfully visible from the street. They'd never put any advertising up, but they were listed in the phonebook, had a website, and Nicky had spent a lot of late hours online and passing out fliers in the club district, getting their name out there. There was no point having a big, tacky, neon sign, not when they were right in the middle of the suburbs. Yeah, it was off to the side in a more industrial area, and there were no residences on either side of them, but they were only four blocks from a school and quite near the main road. Considering the particular demographic they catered for, it would have turned off business making it too flashy. They were discreet and personal. Nicky suspected that most people in the area had no idea what the place even was, probably just figured it was a random house between a bike shop and a garage.

The garage mechanics were nice, one was even one of Anton's regulars.

“Do we call the police?” Shane asked. Nicky shook his head. What was the point? Even if they were bothered to investigate, there wasn't much they could do. “No, I didn't think so.” Kian came back with the bleach and water. They set to work, Nicky using a mop to get the spots above their reach while Shane and Kian scrubbed at the window, working to get the pink streaks off the glass. By the time Mark came back with the paint thinner it was already starting to fade a little bit. Mark ripped up an old beach towel that was still in the back of their car from their last trip to Malahide and began to scrub, pulling the neck of his shirt up over his mouth and nose to protect himself from the fumes.

 

*

 

Blarney arrived not long after, swearing loudly, asking a thousand questions, and then pitching in. Mark was grateful for a chance to step back. The fumes from the paint thinner were starting to make him woozy, and he was getting a blinder of a headache. Though he suspected that had more to do with the way he was clenching his jaw in anger than the smell of bleach and chemicals.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry. Even Kian, who was usually the one to fly off the handle, was taking it in stride and helping out. He was grumpy, yeah, but Mark was genuinely fucked off. Nicky was obviously upset, was trying to hide how miserable he was, and Mark wanted to find whoever was responsible and hang him from a tree.

He went around the side of the house, claiming he was going to refill the bucket, and then kicked seven hells out of the brick wall. When he went back with a full bucket and a sore foot, Nicky gave him a knowing look. Mark couldn't be bothered to pretend to smile back, just nodded to let Nicky know not to worry and got back to work.

By the time they opened, it was about a third gone, and Mark's hands were wrinkled and red from scrubbing. Annie had shown up too, still sniffling a little bit from her cold. She was a cute girl, if you were into that, with big green cats-eye glasses and bright pink hair, her arms covered in tattoos of cartoon characters. Mark liked her, she was a good laugh. He wasn't in the mood for laughing now.

Shane left them, taking Blarney and Annie inside to get the day started. Kian followed not long after, complaining about needing a shower before his first session. The rest of the lads wouldn't be on for another hour – the first hour was always slow anyway. Mark was kind of glad. He didn't really want more people seeing this than had to.

“You okay?” Nicky had taken over doing the window while Mark scrubbed with the mop, his height a bit more appropriate for the necessary reach. They were standing close, Mark trying not to drip him with bleachy water.

“I'm really fucking angry.” Mark replied honestly, jabbing viciously at the wall. Water splashed from the mop, and they both stepped back to avoid it. “Sorry.”

Nicky wiped his forehead. They were both sweating. “You want to take today off?”

“No.” Mark's arms were starting to hurt. He leaned the mop against the wall and reached into Nicky's bucket for a rag, crouching to scrub the lower bricks and trying to think around the haze of rage. “No, that's not fair.”

“I didn't ask if it was fair.” Nicky crouched down alongside him, hands folded between his knees. “We're all upset, but I don't want you forcing anything if your mind's not on it.” He leaned in, and for a moment Mark felt himself relax, the touch of Nicky's lips familiar and soothing on his. “It's okay. We'll finish cleaning up and then you can go home.”

“No. If I sit at home I'll just be angry by myself.” Soapy fingers ran through his hair. All of a sudden, Mark couldn't remember why he'd been quite so upset. It was like feeling violated. Like someone could twist a big part of his identity without his permission. He was proud of who he was. He liked his life, and the people in it. And with one stupid, cruel act, someone he didn't even know had shit all over it. And he couldn't even do anything about it, except spend his own time trying to erase someone else's rather public immature declaration of hate. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Dunno.” He stood up and stepped back to look. It was starting to come off properly now. The window was mostly clean. The bricks were another matter. They'd absorbed the paint like a sponge. “Just sorry.”

“How's it going?” Kian was poking his head out the door. “Do we look respectable?”

“You never look respectable.” Nicky joked, flicking out with a rag. Kian stuck his tongue out. “I think we're just going to have to cover it for now. Chuck a sheet over it or something.”

“So it doesn't look like we're hiding something?” Kian raised an eyebrow. “Want me to call Jake? His brother's a painter. He's probably got a trick or something for getting this crap off.”

Mark felt Nicky's silence, saw the slump of his shoulders. Nicky hated asking for help if he thought he could do it himself. It was one of the things Mark loved about him. He was stubborn and independent. Occasionally pigheaded.

“Yeah.” Mark answered for him. Nicky sighed, agreeing now that he hadn't had to make the decision. “Yeah, thanks Kian.”

“No problem.” Kian was already dialling. Not that he ever needed an excuse to talk to Jake. They were a weird pairing, fought more than any couple Mark had ever seen, but they just seemed to keep pushing on, both of them obstinately refusing to let the other give up. Apparently the make-up sex was pretty awe-inspiring. When they were both in a good mood, they could be downright revolting. “Hey babe. Guess what happened? No, you fuck off, I need your help.” Kian wandered away, talking on his phone. Nicky shook his head, pulled Mark into a kiss. Mark went willingly, starting to feel a bit calmer now he wasn't trapped in his head with his own thoughts.

“Thanks.”  
  
“For what?”

“Just thanks.”

“Oo-er, shagging the boss!” Mark felt himself blush. Noah grinned sunnily, looking relaxed and gorgeous in a sleeveless basketball shirt and cargo shorts. He tipped his sunglasses up to look at their new artwork. “What happened?”

 

*

 

Business was slow. Even a few of the regulars called to cancel their appointments at the last minute, and Nicky had a sinking feeling that they'd driven up, seen the graffiti, and kept driving. He couldn't blame them. It was one thing to pay for sex, another to advertise it, especially when you weren't exactly upfront about your own sexuality. A few did show up, some of the more casual guys who didn't really mind as long as they got what they paid for. Some of them even laughed about it. Around lunch-time Anton took a giggling guy who walked in the door and announced he was there for the faggot whores. He bought forty-five minutes of time, during which he rode Anton's cock like a really excited rodeo clown, then pressed an extra fifty into his hand for the trouble.

It was the high point of an otherwise lacklustre day.

Jake's brother popped round in the early afternoon, took one look at the graffiti, and recommended bleach and paint thinner. He stayed around to help, which was nice of him, and Shane and Nicky took turns going out to scrub while the other sat in the office doing paperwork and safety checks. Nicky didn't know which one he felt less inclined to do. He had no energy, no drive, and the dark look on Mark's face wasn't helping.

Mark did his job. He took a few clients upstairs, did what was required of him, and then came back down. It was one of the first times Nicky had ever seen him lose interest, and to be honest it was unsettling. No matter what was going on, Mark was always able to engage. It was one of the things Nicky loved about him, the way he was always able to put other people before himself, be in the moment.

Kian was disinterested too, but plugged on. Anton was fine. He was always fine. Noah went home early, complaining of stomach-ache, but Nicky could see he just wasn't able to perform and didn't want to admit it. Blarney was a bit out of it for the morning, but by the afternoon he had his groove back and was taking clients upstairs at a breakneck speed, running three back-to-back at one point until Shane told him to slow down. He paced around the living room, unable to sit still, until Nicky took pity and asked him to come help with the clean-up, just to give him something to do.

“How are we doing?” Shane had just retired back to the office, staring at his red-raw fingers with a kind of unattached blankness. Nicky looked at his own. He was going to need some serious moisturiser when this was done. He snapped on the mask that Jake's brother handed him. They were all wearing them to keep the fumes out of their noses and mouths.

“Getting there.” Blarney was conspicuously quiet. He had control of the mop, was standing on a stepladder and scrubbing away. He was right. The graffiti was mostly gone, down to a couple of faded letters and half a cock. It was almost three in the afternoon. They'd spent half the day standing out the front scrubbing. Jake and his brother, Matt, had been out here for two hours solid. Kian kept bringing them coffee, when he wasn't with a client, and a couple of times Nicky had caught Jake staring up at the window, listening to Kian's voice float down. He was doing it now.

Kian was noisy in bed. Nicky didn't expect Jake had ever expected to hear it outside their own home.

“You alright?” Kian didn't sound that involved anyway, was just putting on the noises for show. Jake shook his head.

“Yeah. No. I know what he does, it's just...” He sighed. He was a nice-looking guy, a bit bookish, with prematurely greying brown hair and soft features. Nicky didn't think he was that much older than Kian, maybe thirty-eight at the latest, but for a moment he looked older. “It's a bit odd hearing it.”

Matt was silent. Had been most of the day. Nicky understood. He was maybe forty, straight, standing out front of a gay brothel, listening to his brother's boyfriend fuck for money. It was definitely a story to take home.

“If it's any consolation, he'd rather be with you.”

“It is, sort of. He's faking it anyway, I can tell.” Jake laughed a little bit, making Nicky smile under his mask. They were good together, these two. They had a kind of volatile respect that kept both of them on their toes. “I'm not sure if I should be jealous, or a little bit proud that I know he doesn't fake it with me.”

“I'd be proud.” Nicky looked up to where Kian's client was reaching a very vocal orgasm. “He's yours.”

“He is, yeah. How do you do it? I mean, I know Kian fucks, but...” He was suddenly very interested in dipping his rag in the bucket, making sure it was properly covered in paint thinner. His voice was muffled behind the mask. “I dunno. You actually sell your boyfriend. Isn't it weird?”

Nicky shrugged. He knew from the outside it was, but it had never felt that way to him.

“Not really. One of the reasons I fell in love with him was the way he fucked other people. That sounds really strange, doesn't it?” All three of them nodded, even Blarney. “He's good at it. I don't know. If he did something else well. If he was an artist, or a chef or something, I'd encourage him. I'd want him to push himself and reach his potential and be happy doing something he loved. It's just that he's good at sex. Really good. He likes doing it, so I want to help him do that.”

“Even if it's with other people?” Blarney asked. “Sorry, but we've all been wondering what the deal is with you two.”

“You lot been talking behind our backs?”

“Absolutely.” His honesty made Nicky laugh. “At first we thought maybe he was just your favourite or something. But you guys get each other. You're like... soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” That made Nicky laugh too. He didn't have much truck with destiny or fate, but it was as good a way of putting it as anything. If Nicky had to pick a word, it would be... “Home. He's home. He's my world. I've never loved anything the way I love him, and if I lost him, I think I'd just fade away. He's what's worth getting up in the morning for.”

“Ditto.” Nicky looked up at the familiar voice. Mark was leaning in the doorway, smiling his first real smile all day. “I quite like you too.”

“Hey.” Nicky grinned, dropping his rag and wandering over for a hug, pulling his mask off on the way. It was a nice hug, a big warm one with lots of heart. Nicky kissed Mark's neck, feeling a comforting pulse race under the surface. “You okay?”

“I'm okay.” Lips pressed to his forehead. “Sorry about before. I'm just tired.”

“I know.” Nicky pulled back, glanced at the guys scrubbing paint. “You lads mind if I take my lunch break?”

“Ooooooh...”

“Shut up, Blarney.” Mark said idly, smiling against Nicky's skin.

 

*

 

It had been a definite uplift to his mood, going to check on the clean-up effort and hearing Nicky's voice, saying the things he always felt but didn't know how to describe. Nicky got him. It was a great feeling.

They snuck off to the back patio. In addition to plentiful rooms, en-suites and a spacious living area, there was a little concreted space between the house and the back fence where the smokers crept off to light up (for all his healthy living, Liam was the worst of the lot) and occasionally go to get a moment's peace and quiet. It was deserted.

Mark took a long drag. After a moments hesitation, Nicky bummed a cigarette and lit up too. Mark didn't bother to mention it. Nicky only did it when he was stressed, and it wasn't like he could talk without seeming a hypocrite.

“How are you?”

“I'm okay.” Nicky took a seat in a battered fold-out chair, leaning forward to tap ash onto the cement. Mark leaned over to kiss his hair. “Just a bit rattled.”

“Yeah, I get you.” He sat down in the chair next to him, feeling aging fabric sag beneath him. If he was lucky it wouldn't collapse before he went back in to work. “Is Shane okay?”

“Seems fine. He's not taking it personally.” Nicky looked up at the sky, blowing smoke into the air. Mark watched it go, then sent his own up to follow it, trying to let the exhalation relax his shoulders. Nicky's hand fell into his lap, squeezing his hand. “It feels personal to me. This is my place. Our place.” Mark squeezed back. “It's supposed to be safe. Somewhere for you and the boys and the clients. It's not supposed to be...” He swallowed, looked down at his feet, the cigarette wilting in his hand while he stared at his shoes.

“Nobody has any right to be here but us.”

“Yeah. It sounds selfish, but yeah. I built this place. Shane did too. It's mine. It's not a fucking canvas for other people's bigoted horseshit.”

“It made me really angry.”

“I saw.” Nicky stubbed his smoke against the side of the chair, dropped it on the floor to stamp on it. It had gone out anyway. “Are you still?”

“I really am.” Mark admitted. “I'm not raging, but I really am. Because I saw how upset you were. And it's not fair. You're right, this is ours. And they just get to.... get away with it. To do whatever they want.”

“Calling the police wouldn't do any good.”

“No. Probably not.” Mark agreed. “But I don't have to like it.”  
  
“I wouldn't expect you to.” Nicky reached out for another smoke. Mark obliged. “I certainly don't. I want to punch the shit out of someone, but I don't know who to hit so I want to hit everyone.”

“Including me?”

“No. Never you.” Mark held out the lighter, holding it still while Nicky stood up and held the cigarette over the top, his fingers shaking a little bit. Mark wanted to kiss them until they stopped trembling. “How long were you listening for?”

“Long enough.”

“Have I completely embarrassed myself?”

“No.” Nicky was standing up near enough for Mark to grab him, so he did, tugging him into his lap and feeling the chair creak under him. Nicky sighed, wrapping his arms around Mark's shoulders. It was nice, familiar, the first time they'd been able to be close since waking up that morning. “I think I could be madly in love with you, though. I think that's what upset me. I'm proud of us, of you. I don't like feeling like I shouldn't be.”

“I don't want you feeling like you shouldn't be. You should be proud. I'm proud of you. I don't think I've ever been more proud of anything.”

“Not even this place?”

“No. I'm proud of what Shane and I have done, of what this place has turned into, but at the end of the day, you're just mine. Not Shane's, not anyone else's. Mine.”

“Yours.” Mark agreed, turning to press a kiss to Nicky's throat. “This is just a bad day, yeah? We'll scrub it off and move on. I finish in about an hour anyway. I don't have any more appointments, so I thought I might bunk off early if it's alright with the boss men? Maybe help with the cleaning?”

“I don't expect it.”

“Since when do you get to decide?” Mark laughed, feeling himself relax for the first time all day. His sessions with clients had been woeful. He didn't think they'd really noticed his heart wasn't in it, but he knew, and that was enough. He didn't like watching the clock, trying to get it out of the way so he could go brood in the corner. Sulking wasn't a good look on him. “I want to help.”

“I want you to.” Nicky admitted. He lifted his hand to his mouth, taking a drag of the cigarette behind Mark's head. “I want you around me all the time. It makes me feel better.”

“I can do that. We've got a day off tomorrow, anyway. We still taking it?”

“Yeah.” Nicky agreed. “I think we need it. You want to do anything?”

“No.” Mark nuzzled in, enjoying the weight of Nicky across his lap, the closeness. “Just want you.”

 

*

 

Evan came in for the evening shift. Nicky liked him. He was friendly and kind, with a grin that reminded Nicky of Shane when he'd first been hired. All optimism and laughter. They even looked a bit similar, shorter and with dark hair, and twinkling brown eyes. Jeremy came in half an hour later, took a look at what was left of the graffiti and frowned, then went about his day. Nicky supposed it wasn't the first time he'd been called a name. He didn't know a whole lot about Jeremy's past – the guy was pretty close-lipped – but knew it hadn't exactly been pleasant. There was a lot of necessary violence, a lot of healed scars.

Shane decided to stay on until close. Nicky knew it was because he'd come in early himself and Shane didn't feel right about abandoning the task, but he appreciated it anyway. A few boys barrelled past them into the house while they were scrubbing, obviously on some kind of lads' night, and Shane followed behind to help Annie sort out the bookings. Blarney took it as his last job of the day, Evan, Jeremy and Anton taking the other three. And then it was more or less quiet, all four boys upstairs, Jake and Matt gone home, Shane keeping watch in the office. Just he and Mark, with pruny, painful fingers, stinging worse as the night breeze started to close in.

It was more or less done by ten that night. Nicky let the boys go home. It had been a hard day, and Shane was almost asleep at his desk, his skin pale and eyes empty. For all his nonchalant management of the problem, it was obviously getting to him too, and he needed sleep, especially if Nicky was going to stay home the next day. There wasn't much else to do, there were no more appointments booked, and they certainly weren't going to stand around twiddling their thumbs for an hour hoping someone would show up.

Nicky couldn't remember feeling this hopeless since he was in the old place, staring at a stack of bills and trying not to cry.

“You going to be alright?” Shane nodded at the question, gave him a weak smile in response.

“Once I get some sleep, yeah.” Shane wound up the window, peeled off from the curb. Mark put an arm around Nicky's waist, guiding him back to the car. Mark drove. Nicky didn't think he had the energy. He fell asleep in the car.

Mark turned off the lights and put him to bed. Somewhere in the distance of his mind, Nicky knew he should probably be providing comfort, setting Mark's fears at ease, but he was just too tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.

 

*

 

Nicky was awake. Mark knew it, could feel the too-even breaths as Nicky tried to lull himself to sleep, tried to relax into it. Mark knew the feeling, he'd been trying the same thing for an hour but couldn't seem to drop off, despite the deep, tired ache in his bones. He rolled over, putting his arm around Nicky, trying to draw some comfort. Nicky shivered, pressing back.

“Can't sleep.” He murmured, as if Mark didn't already know. He sobbed twice, shaking in Mark's embrace, then stilled, pulling Mark's arms tighter around him.

“Why you crying?” Mark whispered back.

“Don't know.” Nicky sighed, his breath hitching. “Just tired. Can't sleep.” He sniffled, his back shaking again. Mark rolled him over, pulling him close, feeling his chest dampen while Nicky shook. “Sorry.”

“No, it's okay.” Mark felt a little bit like crying himself. “Let it out. You'll feel better.”

So Nicky did, crying hot, salty tears into Mark's chest, his arms clinging to Mark's waist, snotty nose rubbing on his collarbones. He stilled, after awhile, and Mark looked down to see him fast asleep, his cheeks still wet, face flushed with exhaustion. Mark held him close, stroking his hair.

He dropped off quickly after that, Nicky's soft, calming breaths rocking him gently to sleep.


	3. Wednesday

When Mark woke up, Nicky was still fast asleep, head rested on one arm, the other one flopping off the side of the bed. He was snoring softly, the sheets all tangled up in his legs.

Mark gently kissed the back of his neck and slid out of bed, trying not to wake Nicky. He'd been woken a few times during the night by Nicky getting up. He wasn't sure what Nicky was doing. He hadn't been in the bathroom, was just... pottering around. Mark had feigned sleep. His partner didn't do this very often, only when he was stressed out, but Mark knew it meant he just needed to be alone with his thoughts. And Nicky had always come back to bed, touching Mark lightly on the arm before he'd gone back to sleep. It was enough.

Mark was doing the same, now, wandering blindly around the house. He did some stuff that didn't really need to be done, like loading the dishwasher and checking the mail. When he was done, a whole ten minutes had passed, and he was still wandering alone in the house.

It was a good house. It had been less than a year since they moved in, their old flat having been outgrown pretty much the moment they'd moved in. With two stories, a double garage, two bedrooms, an office for Nicky, a fireplace, and a brand new kitchen, they had a place that finally felt like home. It had good memories, almost as many as the sparse bedroom in the back of the old place. Mark would be lying if he hadn't been a bit sad to leave it, remembering all the stupid, brilliant moments they'd shared there, but there was something nice about this. About knowing he and Nicky had bought this with money they'd earned themselves, had shaped it around themselves, that they had a place separate from work. That every ornament on the mantel had a story, every picture on the wall, every rug and piece of wallpaper was something they'd picked out together. That that loveseat on the patio was where they snuggled up on summer mornings, that in front of the fireplace was their spot on winter nights. It was theirs. It was them.

And Mark was still sure that he'd give it all up if Nicky asked him to.

He wandered back into the bedroom to look for a robe and slippers to put on. It was chilly, and his feet were damp from walking across the grass to the mailbox.

Nicky was sitting up in bed, staring at his phone.

“You're up.” Mark sat down on the bed, tucking the blankets up around his hips for a bit of warmth. An arm came out to hold him, comforting. He leaned into Nicky's side. “What you doing?”

“Just checking the rosters for today.”

“You're not working today, are you?”

“No.” Nicky kissed his forehead. “Just seeing if there've been any cancellations.”

“Why would there be? We cleaned everything up.”

“I know. Just worrying.” Nicky turned the screen off, tossing it to the foot of the bed. Mark was glad it was out of reach. Nicky was attached to his phone when he was fretting, constantly checking everything, waiting for disastrous phone calls that never came. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Mark had a feeling they both knew the other was lying. It didn't really matter. “I feel better today.” Another lie. “Do ye want to do anything today? Go out or anything?”

“Not really.” There was a lot of lying going on. Mark didn't want to admit that he quite wanted to go and stand in front of the brothel with a sword and shield, warding off intruders. In a less insane part of his mind, he didn't really want to get back out of bed. “Can we stay in bed?”

“We can take the bed to the couch.” Nicky tugged at the duvet, tossing it over his shoulder while he climbed out of bed. Mark picked up the pillows, following behind. One went at either end of the couch, the blanket in the middle. Nicky got in at one end while Mark went to make coffee, sliding in at the other end when he was done. They grinned at each other, legs tangling in the middle. Mark felt like the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, all huddled up and prepared to never leave.

 

*

 

Nicky sipped his coffee, looking over their upraised knees at Mark. It was a bit nice here, Mark's legs against his, toes tickling Nicky's groin every now and then. Accidentally, of course. Just like that wink had been an accident. Nicky didn't mind. He wasn't really in the mood, but it was nice to be touched, without intent or expectation, just because he was loved. Nicky needed a bit comfort, and this was as close to comforted as he was going to get.

He hadn't slept well, could already feel himself dozing a little bit despite the coffee. He'd woken up through the night, wasn't sure how many times. They'd all started to bleed into one long stretch of wakefulness after a while, every time he dropped off becoming more of a slap in the face when he woke up, feeling like only minutes had passed. In the end he'd just walked around, staring out windows, turning on the TV and watching late-night infomercials on mute, doing pointless things like unpacking the dishwasher and rearranging folders in his office. They had been in alphabetical order before, now they were arranged by colour.

Mark hadn't woken, and Nicky hadn't wanted to wake him. The boy was tired, the exhaustion written in the bags under his eyes, and Nicky couldn't bring himself to make Mark suffer for his own sudden insomnia. He still looked tired, the red eyes and constant yawning making Nicky feel even more tired himself. He didn't want Mark worrying, not when he was already so upset.

The blankets tented when Mark stretched out a leg, his painted toes poking out the end near Nicky's face, wriggling in front of his eyes. Nicky laughed, despite himself, kissing the tip of each toe in turn, sucking on the big one for a moment. Nothing suggestive, but Mark's eyes darkened a little bit. Nicky liked turning Mark on, knowing that he was the one who made Mark react like that. He stretched out his own foot, laughing again when Mark ran his tongue up the sole, a broad, playful stripe that had Nicky trying not to accidentally kick him in the face, then bit down on the pinky toe, gnawing gently.

Nicky chuckled, feeling the stress drain out of him. Mark did make him feel better.

They sat, not bothering to turn on the television. Nicky read the paper, Mark read a book. Nicky got up to make coffee, Mark got some cereal. Just one big bowl with two spoons. Nicky was pretty sure he ate more of it, but it didn't really matter because Mark filled it again. The next time Nicky looked up, Mark's eyes were closed, soft, sleepy breaths puffing out from between damp, parted lips.

He looked fucking beautiful.

Nicky used his feet to push the blankets further down Mark's end, tucking him in with his toes. Mark grunted softly at the movement, shifting in his sleep. Nicky settled in too, tangling his legs back into Mark's and closing his eyes.

Now was as good a time for a sleep as any other.

 

*

 

When Mark woke up, he could hear the patter of rain on the roof. The room was bathed in a flat glow, the clouds outside blanketing the sky like one solid white sheet. He wiped a little bit of drool from his cheek and sat up, looking over at Nicky, who was still fast asleep, his neck twisted at an odd angle, the half-empty bowl of cereal on the floor next to him.

Mark was busting for a pee.

He got up to relieve himself, feeling his legs wobble when they took his weight. He felt a bit better – a sleep with Nicky was always good for him. It was like they recharged each others batteries.

When he came back, Nicky was still asleep, so Mark grabbed his umbrella and went to bring in the bins. He'd heard the truck go by while they were snuggled up on the couch and didn't want a repeat of that nosy neighbour that had thrown a tantrum last time they'd been left out. Not that she could talk about neighbourhood cleanliness, with what her awful, yappy dogs left all over the footpaths.

Mark thought he wouldn't mind getting a dog. He'd always had them growing up, and he liked them. Maybe he'd put it to Nicky. It would be nice, having something to take care of, a big warm stupid face to come home to, to play with, to walk, to clean up after, to snuggle up with on the couch.

Aside from Nicky, obviously.

He chuckled to himself, reaching into the mailbox again, just in case something had been delivered since earlier. His hand closed around an envelope. There was nothing written on it, no postmark. Probably just junk, then, some coupons or flyers or something, somebody doing letter drops for their business. You may have already won a million dollars, ask us how.

He wandered back in the front door, putting the envelope in his mouth while he wrestled the umbrella closed. The wind was starting to pick up, the rain coming a little bit harder now and pushing the door closed harder than he meant for it to. It didn't quite slam, but it wasn't quiet, either, and Mark winced, hoping he hadn't woken Nicky.

“Babe?”

Shit.

Nicky was sitting up, rubbing his tired face. “Hey, what you doing?”

Mark spat out the envelope. Tossed it onto the coffee table.

“Getting the bins.” He dropped down beside Nicky, tossed an arm around his shoulders. Nicky leaned into it, yawning. “It's raining.”

“In Ireland? No way.” He leaned up to kiss Mark. Mark returned it, letting himself sink into the softness of Nicky's lips, the gentle fingers on the back of his neck. When he pulled back, Nicky was looking at him with a small, quizzical smile. “You in the mood?”

Mark chuckled. He wasn't, particularly, but shagging Nicky was never a bad thing, and it looked like the older boy needed a bit of affection. Plus it was always nice to know you were wanted. “How about we move this to bedroom and see where it goes?”

“Sound plan.” Nicky stood, pulled Mark to his feet, and they just stood there for a moment with their arms around each other, enjoying the closeness, Nicky's head on his shoulder, soft hands stroking his back. Mark rubbed his face into Nicky's hair, feeling the tension in his arms.

 

*

 

It was nice, all wrapped up in bed and each other, listening to the rain strike the window above the bed. They'd been kissing for about half an hour, no real urgency, and Nicky could taste coffee and the sugar from the cereal on Mark's breath. At some point they'd lost their clothes, but nothing was really happening. Nicky would be lying if he said he wasn't hard, but it didn't really seem to matter. Mark's chest was warm and comforting against his, his hands drawing patterns on Nicky's skin, tongue stroking all the frowns from Nicky's mouth. He could feel Mark's heartbeat against his chest, steady and sure.

His jaw was starting to hurt a bit, if he was honest with himself.

He pulled away, hands framing Mark's face so he could look at him. Mark dropped a kiss on his cheek, smiling, then pressed their noses together, their eyes only an inch apart. His pupils were slightly dilated, breath coming a little bit harder, and Nicky wriggled against the arousal he could feel alongside his.

“That's nice.”

“Mmm.” Nicky agreed. “You're nice.”

“How you feeling?”

“Good.” It was true. He was still a bit upset but the stress was starting to work itself out of his bones. It was over now, the paint was gone and business would be back to normal. It was almost eleven, so if anything was horribly wrong he would have had a call from Shane by now, and the morning schedules had still been pretty much the same when he'd checked them earlier. “You okay?”

“I'm okay.” Mark smiled, tilting their faces to kiss Nicky again, their noses squashing together. “I'm a bit angry still, but there's not really anything to worry about now, is there? Except I don't think I've got any skin left on my fingers.” Nicky pulled the fingers up to kiss them. They were a bit cracked and raw, but his were the same way. “I think I was mostly just annoyed that it affected my work. It felt like I had writer's block or something. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't get my brain to kick in and do it. It just pissed me off. The last time I felt like that was when I left Bryan's.”

Mark didn't really talk about this often, it was a part of his life he'd preferred to put behind himself. Nicky could respect that. He knew the story, more or less, that Mark had been beaten badly and raped in a session gone wrong, that he couldn't continue working at Bryan's after that. It was selfish, but a small part of Nicky was almost glad it had happened. If Mark hadn't wanted to leave, if Bryan hadn't asked for a favour, they'd never be here now.

The other part of Nicky wanted to find the guy responsible, rip his cock off, dip it in gold, and present it to Mark as a trophy while the fucker bled to death in a pit of iron spikes. He was in jail now, had been apparently doing it to street prostitutes for months before he was caught. A number of them had come forward, badly bruised and with similar stories. Mark had just been the unlucky one he'd decided to go indoors for.

“You're not leaving me, though?”

“No. Just a bit of a hiccup.” Mark's hands tickled his sides, big strong talented hands that made Nicky wriggle with pleasure. “You want to keep making out?”

Nicky knew Mark was avoiding talking about it, but he didn't mind. Making out sounded like a great idea. He fingered the scar on the right of Mark's forehead for a moment, almost hidden in the hairline, a souvenir of having his head cracked off a toilet before being tied up. Mark pressed into the touch, kissing Nicky's palm.

“I want you inside me.” Nicky found himself whispering, suddenly realising it was all he wanted. To be connected. Not even to come, just to be together.

“I can do that.” A hand went down to his bum, squeezing playfully. “We'll get there, yeah? All the time in the world.”

Nicky pulled his head down for another kiss.

 

*

 

“Oh god, Nicky.” Mark hissed, feeling hips settle against his pelvis. Nicky was always so tight, his passage clenching softly around him in time with his breaths. He felt Nicky moan, hands scrabble at his back for a moment while he adjusted to the intrusion. It was so simple, this, so natural. Holding Nicky for ages, stroking him, feeling him relax, sharing kisses until Nicky hadn't even needed much preparation, had accepted Mark's length easily. Which was good, because Mark didn't know how he'd gone that long without being inside him. He felt like there was no other option, all of a sudden. This was it, where he was supposed to be.

Nicky shuddered against him, hands weaving into his hair, their mouths sliding over each other. Mark couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been kissing. His jaw was aching a bit from it – almost an hour of kissing would do that – but he couldn't even entertain the idea of stopping, not when a leg hitched up, pulling them even tighter together. He could probably get deeper if one of them rolled on top, but then there would be thrusting and it would all be over way too fast. Here, laying on their sides, tangled under the sheets, Mark's hand almost asleep from being wedged under Nicky's ribs, he thought he might be able to keep going forever.

“I don't want to come yet.” Nicky murmured against Mark's lips, pulling them closer together and giving Mark's hand a chance to readjust to a position with a bit more blood-flow. “Don't let me come yet.”

“I won't.” Mark promised. Reached down to grab Nicky's arse, pull him up into a more comfortable position. He could feel the tremble of Nicky's thighs as he tried to keep his hips tilted forward while their bodies pressed together, his back bent awkwardly. Mark tilted his own hips forward, trying to make the position a bit more natural. Nicky shivered, hissed in a breath. “God, you're tight.” He interlaced their fingers, kissing the back of Nicky's hand before stretching out for his lips again. Nicky laughed, grabbing the sheet and yanking it up over both their heads, making a little cocoon. Which would have worked, but it meant Mark's toes were sticking out the bottom. He hitched them up, lifting one leg to open his hips wider, giving Nicky room to push onto him a little bit more, even though it meant the bent leg on the mattress was taking most of Nicky's weight.

Well, it wasn't like uncomfortable positions weren't a part of his day-to-day anyway.

“Your knee's poking me.”

“You're squashing my leg.” Mark retorted.

“I’m not moving.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” Their faces were so close Mark could feel eyelashes on his cheek. “You never stop bloody saying it.”

“I'll stop, shall I?”

“It's fine, I'll cope. Can we get a dog?”

“What?” Nicky blinked, pulled his head back a little bit to look at Mark.

“A dog. Can we get one?”

“Like, furry, four legs, shits everywhere?”

“Yes please.”

“Why?”

“I like dogs.”

Nicky pursed his lips, running his fingers through Mark's hair. Mark knew he was doing puppy-dog eyes. It was usually a guaranteed sell, and would give Nicky a bit of a sneak preview for when they had a puppy-dog of their own. One with big brown eyes that would learn to sit and stay and shake hands, and they could take it for walks.

“We're really busy babe. Are you going to have time to take care of it?”

“Yeah. I'll get up early and walk it, and I'll take it to obedience school and the vet or whatever.”

“And you'll still want to do that in ten years when you're pushing forty and the dog's not little and cute any more?”

“You'll help.”

“Will I? You're assuming I'll be here in ten years.”

“Where else would you be?”

Nicky leaned in for another kiss, and Mark didn't miss the glow of contentment in his eye. He shifted a little bit, to disperse the heavy atmosphere that had settled in the room, felt Nicky's responding shiver. This was all getting very serious, very quickly, and it wasn't supposed to be about that. It was supposed to be about feeling better.

He felt better than better.

“If you can promise you'll still be here in ten years.” Nicky sighed, his cheeks flushing a little bit while Mark thrust slowly, his erection having wilted a little inside Nicky while they were talking, apparently getting the memo that they were in no particular rush. It had no problem coming back, though, especially when Nicky whimpered and licked his throat, his own flagging arousal springing back to life against Mark's belly. “Then you can have a dog.”

“If I promise I'll be here in twenty, can I have two dogs?” Mark kissed up his neck, sucking Nicky's earlobe into his mouth and nibbling, listening to the soft cry in response, feeling fingers dig into his back.

“You're pushing it now.”

Mark sniggered, feeling Nicky's walls trembled around him. He gripped Nicky's hips, not able to move much himself in this position, but able to twist Nicky down against his own pelvis, get some friction going. And yes, that was good. Nicky was clutching at him, one hand digging into the small of his back, the other moulded to his shoulder, pushing at him. He let himself be rolled onto his back, knowing Nicky didn't have long left. The sheet fell down, pooling around Nicky's waist.

“If we have two dogs, they'll have someone to play with while we're shagging.”

Nicky stilled on top of him, hips shifting a little bit to adjust to the new position. Mark couldn't help touching him, it was such a good view. Up a flat stomach, watching muscles jump under the skin, up to pinch playfully at a nipple, then to his face, Nicky leaning forward so Mark could reach to caress a pink cheek . The other hand on Nicky's hip, holding him steady.

“They'd have to be small dogs, then. If you're going to get two. I don't want two bloody great German Shepherds charging around the house.”

“If they're really small, can I have three?”

“No.” Nicky lifted himself slightly, dropped back down. Mark grabbed the sheets for a moment, crying out at the shift in pressure. Nicky was smirking, obviously proud of himself for derailing Mark's train of thought, and Mark wasn't willing to argue the point, not with Nicky beginning to slowly fuck himself, leaning forward to rest his hands either side of Mark's head. Mark reached up to touch his face. Nicky twisted his hips, and Mark let out a growl he didn't mean to make. So Nicky did it again, crying out when Mark twisted back and thrust up, trying to target his prostate. Nicky was mumbling under his breath, mostly the word 'fuck', but Mark caught his own name a few times. Nicky stiffened, looking for all the world like he was about to come, but then he brought a hand down, tugging his balls, staving it off for a moment longer. Mark watched, open-mouthed, overwhelmed by his own pleasure but unable to look away from this beautiful fucking thing that Nicky was doing, pulling himself back from the edge as hard as he could.

Mark ran a finger over Nicky's parted, shining lips, feeling the hand next to his head shake, the other one rolling Nicky's balls, stroking up to pinch the head of his cock and then back down to grip the base, squeezing hard enough that it had to hurt. Nicky just kept going, though, rubbing Mark against his prostate, gasping so hard Mark thought he might pass out.

Nicky opened his eyes, his pupils blown so wide they were almost black. Mark couldn't look away.

“Fuck, Nicky.”

“I...” Nicky grunted, grabbing himself harder. Mark wanted to reach out to touch, couldn't. Couldn't interrupt if his life depended on it. It was too fucking erotic. He just settled for tightening his hold on Nicky's hip, the other one coming up to slide under the one braced near his head, feeling the tremble in Nicky's arm when he took all the weight into his own hand, Nicky's whole body shaking. A bead of sweat trickled down Nicky's temple, dropped onto Mark's chest. His cock was dark and purple, looked almost bruised, his balls gathering up underneath. Mark could just see himself moving in and out when Nicky lifted himself up, the sight almost as good as the feeling. He knew, objectively, that he was probably going to come himself, and very soon, but he couldn't think about it, not with Nicky mewling under his breath, his fingers letting go of the base of his cock and grabbing Mark's hand, guiding it onto his shaft.

“Please. Now. Please.” It was a choked whisper. Mark obliged, feeling the pulse throb under his fingers when he stroked up, then down, then up, and then Nicky was plunging down, grabbing the hand near Mark's head tighter, squeezing hard enough to hurt and coming in thick, white ropes that seemed to gush forever while Nicky screamed his way through his orgasm, voice hoarse, hips bucking madly until Mark thought he might go mad if he didn't come himself. Not wanting to. Not wanting to distract himself for a moment from what Nicky was feeling.

He did anyway, when Nicky collapsed forward, flipping them over for a moment and managing about two and a half thrusts before he found himself biting into Nicky's pliant, flushed shoulder, hands holding Nicky in as close as he could, trying to cover him, melt into his skin. Nicky moaned softly, trembling fingers holding them together while Mark jerked the last of himself into Nicky, hand gripping the bottom of the condom to hold it steady.

Nicky started giggling. Broken, unsteady giggles that almost sounded like sobs. Mark joined in, burrowing his nose into the sparse blonde hair of Nicky's chest, feeling his heart thrum along with the rain rattling the roof.

 

*

 

Nicky sat naked on the bed, listening to Mark muck around in the bathroom. They'd taken a shower together, both of them sticky after Nicky had decided to finger-paint on Mark's belly with his own cum. There was enough of it. Nicky couldn't remember the last time he'd come that hard. It had taken everything he had to hold on that long, the look on Mark's face worth it. That intense fucking look, like he was just daring Nicky to keep going.

They'd lay in bed for ages after that, Nicky drawing white, sticky hearts and smiley faces on Mark's chest until they went all crusty and Mark started complaining about being itchy.

Mark was still in there, having a shave and singing to himself. Nicky loved Mark's voice. It was deep and soulful, with an amazing range. There was nothing better than listening to Mark belt out a Prince song in the shower, that voice echoing off the tiles. Nicky could carry a tune okay, but Mark's voice was something else.

He wasn't really singing anything particular, just kind of warbling away, snatches of lyrics from different songs and random notes, like he was flicking through radio stations in his head. It was comforting, knowing Mark was just there, in Nicky's life.

Nicky leaned forward to reach into the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, digging around among his socks until he found the pair he was looking for at the back, an old ratty pair with visible holes in them, that Mark would never bother borrowing. Not that he probably would anyway, Nicky's socks were far too small for him.

Clenching his hand, he felt hard corners press into his palm through the fraying material, the edges of the ring-box solid and reassuring in his grip. If Mark had found it, he hadn't said anything, and Nicky didn't think he had. Mark was a bit secretive, a bit of a dark horse sometimes, but Nicky felt sure he would have heard about it if Mark had come across an engagement ring in the back of Nicky's sock drawer.

He'd bought it ages ago. Over a year ago, when they'd still been living in that shitty flat while they looked for a house to buy. He hadn't even really intended to propose at the time, they were still fairly new, had only just considered actually buying a place instead of renting one, were still discussing whether to put both their names on the mortgage or if that was too much of a commitment. Nicky was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Mark at the time, but wasn't sure how Mark felt. If he was even interested in getting married, or if that was entirely outside his scope of interest. Mark didn't really talk about marriage, seemed sort of disinterested in the idea outside of the politics and gay rights part of it. But Nicky thought he wanted it for himself. Something to show that Mark was his. That he was Mark's, more to the point, because he felt a little bit sick when he saw the contract they'd both signed when Mark had come to work for him full-time, tying Mark professionally to Nicky, even though they'd already been shagging like mad at the time.

He wanted to belong to Mark.

The tap turned off in the bathroom, Mark's humming coming closer to the door. Nicky shoved the ball of socks back in the drawer, cramming it right in the back just in time.

“What you doing?”

“Listening to the live performance.” Nicky gave him a cheeky grin. Mark blew him a kiss, not embarrassed. It wasn't exactly a new thing, to hear Mark singing away. Apparently a teacher had thrown a book at him for it when he was a kid. Sometimes Nicky considered leaving tip-jars outside Mark's room when he was in with a client, just in case he burst into song during the act. “Sounds like you're strangling a cat.”

“Ha bloody ha.”

Nicky tossed a pillow at him, laughing when Mark caught it and began to smack him with it, his towel falling off when he pushed Nicky back on the bed, straddling him and hitting him with the pillow. Nicky made an embarrassing squeal, tried to wriggle out but just ending up on his front with Mark smacking him over the back of the head, playfully humping his arse with a soft cock that flopped against Nicky's bum.

“Geroff!”

Mark smacked him again, then climbed off, leaving Nicky breathless and giggly.

“Hungry. Put clothes on. Go find food.”

Nicky nodded, reaching for a clean shirt. It wasn't time yet, he didn't think. And maybe it had been a joke, leverage to get permission for a dog, but Nicky thought ten years, even twenty, didn't seem like quite long enough.

 

*

 

Mark pushed his sunglasses up his forehead, feeling weird about driving past his own workplace on his day off. Nicky had insisted though, just a quick drop-by on the way to the pub for lunch, and Mark didn't mind the detour if it would set Nicky's mind at ease. Everything seemed fine. There were a couple of pink streaks still on the building, but if Mark hadn't known to look for them he'd think they were just a trick of the light.

They didn't bother to stop, though Mark suspected Nicky wanted to. He was hungry, though, it was almost two in the afternoon and they hadn't eaten anything except cereal, most of which he was sure they'd burned off with that intense make-out session. His stomach was rumbling, was doing it now, making Nicky look over and laugh, reaching out to pat his belly.

“You're talking there, babe.”

“Yeah, I'm saying 'get me a pint and a steak sandwich'.” Mark translated, squeezing Nicky's hand before letting it go back to the steering wheel. Nicky turned the corner, heading toward the run of shops and cafes a few streets over. Mark hadn't really intended to leave the house today, had just been content sitting on the couch with Nicky, brooding and miserable, but he felt good now, had a ton of energy and a lighter heart. It was still drizzling a little bit, but the sun was out, and he just wanted to be out in it with Nicky, sitting with a pint, eating pub food, and flirting over the table.

They found a park down the end behind the greengrocer. It was mostly hippie crap here, lots of costume jewellery, second-hand books and clothes stores that seemed to trade primarily in tie die and hemp, but it was a nice little area with a casual, artsy vibe that always smelled slightly of patchouli. Mark got of the car and stretched in the sunlight, drops of water collecting in his hair. An umbrella came over his head. He took it, pulling Nicky under it with him and kissing his cheek.

The pub was half-empty, and they found a secluded booth in the corner, Nicky squishing into the same side of the table with him. Mark suspected it was so he could put a hand on his thigh under the table, and he wasn't at all averse to the idea. Nicky's grip was warm and comforting. Mark dropped a kiss on his hair, then shoved him back out of the booth and sent him up to the bar to get a jug of beer.

Mark got his steak sandwich, Nicky a huge plate of nachos that Mark had to help him finish. Somehow they still had room to split most of a slice of banoffee pie, each of them trying to shove the last pieces into the other's mouths when they flagged at the end.

The empty plates went. Mark got up to fiddle with the jukebox then sat back down next to Nicky, leaning tipsily into the arm flung around his shoulders and draining his glass.

“Another drink?”

Mark shook his head. No, he was pushing it as he was. He felt sleepy and content, a little bit slurry, and didn't want to tip over into properly drunk. Nicky had only had one drink, offering to drive them home, so Mark had finished the rest of the jug.

“You trying to get me drunk? Player.”

“I don't have to get you drunk for that.” Nicky squeezed his shoulder. Mark closed his eyes, relaxing into the arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don't fall asleep.”

“I'm not.” He was. “I'm resting my eyes.”

“It's probably my fault for tiring you out.”

Mark snorted a laugh, let himself be pushed back out of the booth and back towards the car. The walk was good, it woke him up a little bit, let the food in his stomach settle. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this full. Usually it was just small snacks through the day to keep him going. He felt deliciously uncomfortable. He burped, listening to Nicky laugh beside him. “Scuse me.”

“I'm brewing a bit of chemical warfare meself.” Nicky patted his normally flat stomach, which was swelling out a little bit with all the food. “I think I'm preggers.”

“We only just decided on the dog. I don't think I'm ready for kids.”

“That's alright. I'll be dropping these off at the pool in a bit.” Then Nicky laughed while Mark pulled a disgusted face, poking him lightly in the stomach. “Ow. Don't. Full.”

It had stopped raining. Mark buckled himself up, reaching across the gear shift to hold Nicky's hand. Nicky winked back.

When they got back, they cracked open a six-pack, Nicky quickly catching up with Mark in the race to be casually drunk, and hung out on the couch for a few hours, dozing and watching TV. Mark sneakily looked at a few animal shelters on his laptop, hoping to convince Nicky to make a trip out to look at puppies when he wasn't sleepy, drunk, or addled from sex. He knew Nicky had said yes, but it was another thing actually doing it, and Mark didn't want him to change his mind. Not that Nicky was in charge of him, but he wanted a pet that was both of theirs, something they could take care of together.

They went to bed late, sleepy and drunk, and by then Mark had completely forgotten about the blank envelope on the coffee table, the one covered in magazines and empty beer bottles.


	4. Thursday

Nicky was hungover. Not in an apocalyptic, geysers of vomit sort of way, just in a seedy, desperate for a bacon sandwich, can't remember how to walk kind of way. Mark was in the shower, head leant against the wall, looking the same way Nicky felt.

“I think we drank too much.” Mark murmured, the steaming water splitting into curtains where his forehead met the tiles, plastering his hair to his face. “I feel crap.”

“We've got work in two hours.” Nicky reminded him. “It's your own fault for drinking too much.”

“You're a bad influence.” Mark sighed, yawned, pushed himself off the wall to stand under the stream of water, his face tilted up. “I'll be okay. Just slap on some make-up so no-one sees the bags under my eyes. Rowen can do me eyeliner. He already did my nails.”

“You look cute in eyeliner.” Nicky held out a towel when Mark stepped out, wrapping him up and kissing his nose.

“I'd need to cover half my face in it to hide these.” Mark leant over toward the mirror, poking his finger into the dark circles under his eyes and pulling a face. “I'll look like all of KISS at the same time. I'm pale enough, maybe I could be a goth for the day? Not that they're looking at my face, anyway, but nobody wants their dick sucked by a zombie.”

“We could run a special on necrophilia.” Nicky suggested, pulling his shirt over his head. “You want to stop at McDonald's on the way in? A McMuffin will probably set you right.”

“No. God. No more grease. After how much I ate yesterday I already had to use an enema when I got up just to get me through the first few appointments. My stomach feels like lead.”

Nicky got him to eat an apple in the car at least. Mark chewed it disinterestedly and threw half of it into the bushes on the way in. Nicky watched, torn between feeling sorry for him and laughing his arse off. He'd had a couple of hash-browns in the car and felt much better, though his mouth still felt dry and his back hurt for some reason. Maybe he was just getting old. And there was a horrible thought. Mark slumped in to sit down with the others. Anton and Kian were already there, watching some talk show. Shane wouldn't be in until the afternoon, so Nicky went in to check on what had happened the day before.

There was a stack of files on Shane's desk, but his own was clear except for a note in Shane's handwriting that said 'everything fine, new bookings, check roster, see you later'. So Nicky did. Anton had a morning appointment with a really nice pre-op transgender girl called Nina who usually just liked a bit of a cuddle and a make-out. She came around every few weeks. Anton was good with her, they got on together well, always had a bit of a giggle. He was bi, and wasn't really fussed about what she was packing downstairs. Nicky suspected that if she hadn't been a client they'd probably make a good couple, even if she was a bit prone to flying off the handle when her hormones were unbalanced, but she had a great pair of fake tits and Nicky had caught Anton staring down her top a few times.

Kian was looking at a reasonably full day. He was still getting the older guys who wanted to fuck the cute young blonde, but as he was getting older he was starting to get some guys a bit younger than him. It was good, he was capturing a bit more variety. Today he had a regular, a younger guy who liked to have ice-cubes shoved up his arse, and a couple of new bookings, one a regular of Noah's who had been happy to switch when he found out it was Noah's day off, and the other a new guy in for his first time. Nicky wasn't sure what he wanted, but he was sure Kian could handle it, whatever it was. Rowen would be in an hour or so once business picked up.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hey, Annie.” Nicky looked up. “Morning, babe. How was yesterday? Everyone cope alright?”  
  
“S'alright.” She grinned. She had braces, with bands that seemed to change colour every other day. “Jeremy was a bit cranky. His rugby team lost or something, he had the worst grazes on his knees. Otherwise it was fine. Just thought I'd see if you wanted a coffee?”

“If you're having one.” Nicky sighed, pushing back from the desk and standing up to stretch. “Three and a bit of milk.” He looked around the office, not sure what to do with himself. In the end he started going over the supply list, adjusting the figures and starting to place orders for what they were running out of. One time they'd run low without realising and he'd had to send Mark down to the local chemist at seven pm for all the water-based lube he could carry. It must have looked hilarious, this random guy walking in and loading up two baskets with the biggest bottles of Waterglide they had, and two Twix bars for Kian, who slapped a fiver into his hand on the way out and told him to keep the change.

 

*

 

Mark was feeling better, though his apple had been a bit crap and mealy. He'd managed to down four big glasses of water, and had brushed the hell out of his teeth until his gums had almost bled. He felt almost human now, despite the slight headache and aching gums.

Kian told him he looked like shit. Mark told him to fuck off. So that was normal at least. Anton threw a cushion at Kian's head. There was some miserable slag on TV yelling about how her babydaddy needed to get his head out of his arse and pay for her second-cousin's pole-dancing lessons. He was sure that made perfect sense to somebody. Anton went upstairs with Nina, one of his regulars, his arm thrown around her shoulder like an old friend. Kian got out his guitar and started playing an Amy Winehouse song. Mark sang along for a bit, drinking more water in between verses.

“How was your day off?”

“Nice. Just hung out, watched some TV, went to the pub.” And the sex, obviously, but he didn't really feel the need to share that. Fucking for money was one thing, but that feral, desperate look in Nicky's eyes right before he'd come was something he wanted to hold close to his heart. “Chilled out a bit, after how fucked up Tuesday was.”

Kian nodded. “Yeah, it was a bit. Jake's hands are a mess from the paint-thinner.”

“Thank him for helping out, yeah? Him and his brother. Nicky really appreciated it. Me too. We did. You know what I mean.”

“Shane's already thanked them enough, but yeah. I think Matt had his mind blown a little bit. Apparently they could hear me fucking upstairs.”  
  
“Ooh, how was that, then?” Mark laughed. Kian was noisy, he always had been. There was always a lot of swearing. “He take a peek behind the curtain?”

“Yeah. He was a bit quiet about it, but I think he's okay. Jake, I mean, not Matt. I don't really give a shit what Matt thought.”

“Jake didn't mind?”

“I think he minded a bit. He kind of laughed about it, said he could tell I was faking, but I dunno. We didn't fight about it or anything.”

“That's good, isn't it?”  
  
“Yeah, but we fight about shit that doesn't matter all the time. And we didn't fight about this. I'm not sure what that means. Or maybe he just really doesn't care.”

“You could ask?”

Kian barked a laugh. “Yeah, but then we _will_ have a fight, and I don't really feel like fighting about this.” He turned back to his guitar, idly twisting the pegs, even though as far as Mark could tell it was already in tune. “It's my life. He knows that. I mean, we talk about it all the time. I bring home stories and that, about weird clients, or just... you know, you come home with bruises, or you have a small dinner because you know you've got a big day coming up. It's just part of the day, and it pushes in to other parts of your life. Like, he's a manager at his work, so sometimes he has paperwork to bring home, or he's got some staff member giving him shit or whatever, and I like listening to him talk about his day. Maybe he didn't think it was real or something.”

“Would you ever quit if he asked you to?”  
  
Kian bit his lip, sucked in a breath, looked up. Mark caught his eyes, seeing the uncertainty there.

“No.” Kian said finally. “I might quit for both of us, if we'd been together long enough and I'd made my money and was ready for a change. But if he asked me? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he'd be the kind of person who would ask me to give up something I love. If he asked, if I gave it up for him, he wouldn't be the person I wanted to be with. I wouldn't ask him to quit his job, and he's got no right to ask me to quit mine. You know, it's like in the old days when women had to go stay at home when they got married, raising kids and keeping the house clean. I'm not doing that. I make more than him anyway.”

Mark nodded. Kian probably made quite a bit more than Jake, especially on a busy day. Some jobs would make on their own more than Jake made in a whole day, if they were kinky enough or booked out enough time. And if they were both, that was your electricity bill paid for the next two months. “Do you think he would ask?”

Kian shook his head, but it still seemed uncertain. “I don't think so. We've only been together a few years, it's not like we're getting married or anything.”

“You want to marry him?”

“I don't think I'm really the marrying type. But if I was... no, I don't think so. We fight a lot and, yeah, it's all in fun, we have a lot of fun. I'm happy where I am, but I'm not really thinking about the future yet. Maybe one day, when we're both old and fat and if we've got a free weekend and I can be bothered getting off the couch. I keep expecting him to suggest it. He's a bit older, and I know he's more at the settle-down kind of stage, but if he asked... I don't think I'd say yes.” He pursed his lips, strummed the guitar for a moment. “Shit, we don't even technically live together, I still sleep at my old apartment a few times a month, especially when he's giving me the shits.” He looked at Mark again, a smile tweaking the corners of his eyes, where he was starting to get a few delicate crows-feet. “I love him, but I don't know if I love him like that. Not like what you and Nicky are like. What about you? Would you marry Nicky if he asked you?”

“Kian, Adam's here.” Annie's head poked through into the room. “I've sent him to Room 5. There's six trays of ice-cubes in the freezer if you want them.”

Kian handed Mark the guitar, standing and readjusting his crotch right in front of Mark's face, laughing. Mark punched him lightly in the thigh, sniggering at Kian's wince.

“We'll finish this later.” Kian promised, though if it was the punch or the question he was talking about, Mark wasn't sure. He wasn't sure which one he least wanted it to be.

Rowen showed up, took one look at Mark, and asked if he wanted his make-up done. Mark stuck his tongue out, well aware he wouldn't be winning any line-ups today, glad that he had a couple of regulars on that probably wouldn't mind what he looked like. Tony was coming in about ten minutes. He liked to pretend he was a virgin, and that he'd been turned gay against his will. Mark didn't really see why he couldn't go cruising and pretend to be a virgin for free, but the guy was in his fifties and obviously had some sort of hangup about his sexuality. Mark was happy to accept the money. He'd already worked his way through Jeremy, Evan, Blarney and Noah, didn't like to use the same guy twice. Ruined the illusion, probably. Nicky had let Mark watch the tapes last week when he made the booking, so Mark could see what he liked. It was pretty standard, but with the way Mark was feeling he was pretty sure he was going to need a Viagra to get going. This guy wanted to be fucked, to be held down against his will (the safe word was apparently 'cheesecake'), slapped around a bit, and transformed into a beautiful blossoming bottom. Mark would probably need to come for that, or at least hold out an erection long enough to get him through the forty-five minutes.

He really did hate Viagra. It gave him a headache and made him dizzy. He hadn't really needed it much when he was younger, still didn't very often, but with the slight hangover sitting in the back of his skull, he didn't really want to feel worse. Maybe he could get through it without.

He took another big swallow of water, giving himself a bit of grope and hardening slightly under his own hand. It helped to think of Nicky, but he didn't like to do it once he was in with the client. It was too personal to bring in with him. Rowen raised an eyebrow.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, just a bit hungover, trying to get meself going.” Mark explained. “Got to top in about fifteen minutes.”

“Want me to get you started?”

“No.” Mark did appreciate the offer, but no. He knew sometimes the others would offer each other a bit of 'help' when necessary, but he wasn't interested. It was too much like cheating. “Thanks though.”

“Any time.” Rowen turned back to the TV. Mark did too, squeezing lightly, feeling a bit of something going on. He should probably feel weird about touching himself with Rowen in the room, but it wasn't like any of them had any propriety left. They'd all seen him strapped into a swing and getting pounded like a pinata during one of Shane's video show-and-tells, so this was the least of it. Nicky had laughed, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and congratulated him on how far he could put his legs over his head.

Nicky...

 

*

 

“Hey, babe?” Mark shut the door behind himself, which was odd.

Nicky looked up from his ordering. It was painfully boring, so if Mark wanted to distract him, that was fine. Although...

“Hey. Don't you have a session starting in a minute?”

“Yeah. Do me a favour?”

Nicky nodded. Of course. Favours for Mark was what he did.

“Think you could suck me for a minute or two?”

Nicky blinked, then laughed, watching Mark's cheeks go pink under eyes that still had a few dark circles for decoration. “You having trouble getting it up?”

“No, just. Yeah. Don't want to take anything. I'll be okay, probably, I just don't want to risk it.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, come over here.” Nicky was giggling now, unable to help himself. The embarrassed look on Mark's face was so worth it. Mark was already unbuckling his jeans, the fabric a little bit tented. He'd obviously already got himself started. Nicky had to close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, just to stop himself laughing long enough to open his mouth and plant a sloppy, sliding kiss from the root of Mark's cock to the head, taking the whole thing in for a moment, then drawing back when he felt it lengthen in his mouth, butt the back of his throat. Fingers rested carefully on the side of Nicky's neck. Nicky scooted forward on his chair, trying to get a better angle, heard Mark moan softly. It was a good sound. Nicky was a little bit disappointed he wouldn't get to bring Mark off himself, but that would sort of defeat the purpose.

“That's good, thanks.” Mark pulled out after a minute or two, his damp cock bouncing from Nicky's lips. He pushed it back into his jeans, tilting it up and leaving the belt undone so he could tuck it into the waistband and pull his long shirt over it. It was almost hidden. He pulled the belt out, handed it to Nicky, who had begun to laugh again. He couldn't help it. Mark's face!

“Mark!”

“Coming, Annie!” He called back, adjusting himself. “Sorry, thanks. I'll pay you back for that later.” Nicky swatted his arse with the belt on the way out, still laughing.

He flicked on the screen to check on Nina and Anton, who were just finishing up a pretty heavy make-out session, his face buried in her boobs, which Nicky was sure was a terrible hardship for him. They were fine. Kian was holding an ice-cube between his lips, rubbing it back and forth against Adam's entrance while the guy whimpered like a baby, his face a picture of agony. He was also fine.

Mark was slamming Tony forward against a wall, biting at his ear, saying something that was probably really filthy from the look on Tony's face. His other hand was fumbling at his jeans, and Nicky took a moment to appreciate his own handiwork before Mark yanked down Tony's trousers and pinned him to the wall, rutting against him, twisting his arm up behind his back hard enough to hurt a little bit. Tony didn't seem to be complaining, was just gasping when fingers forced into him. Mark glanced up at the camera. Nicky found himself giving a silly little wave, even though he knew Mark couldn't see him do it. Then Mark was going in, fucking Tony hard and, shit, Nicky didn't know why he'd needed any help. He looked so natural, grabbing Tony's cock and pulling, talking in his ear.

Mark was good at saying filthy things. Nicky had been surprised. He came over all shy, and then the most graphic things would come out his mouth. The first time he'd had phone sex with Mark he'd almost come before he'd even got his pants off, the idea that Mark was saying those things while sitting in his old bedroom on a visit with his parents somehow even more lewd and brilliant than if they'd been in the room together.

There was the sound of breaking glass in the other room and a shout. Nicky looked up. Maybe Rowen had broken a lamp or something. Fuck it, he'd probably need a vacuum. He was about to stand up when Annie ran in.

“Nicky, get out here!”

“What's wrong?” He was already rounding the desk, not missing the panic in her voice. “Is someone hurt?”

There was broken glass on the floor, Nicky could see it already, and he looked up, breath catching at the baseball-sized hole in the front window. Rowen was standing on the couch in bare feet, away from the shards of glass on the floor. There wasn't a lot. Nicky supposed it was just lucky the whole thing hadn't collapsed and come crashing down on the floor. That was the small, rational part of his brain. The rest of him...

“Fuck!” He swore, kicking at the side of the couch, only realising how loud he'd been when they both jumped and turned to stare at him with wide, frightened eyes. He ran for the front door, hearing glass crunch under his shoes. “Annie, go to my office and check on the boys.” He called out, yanking the door open and lunging out, trying to see if there was a car peeling off, a number plate he could memorise. Nothing. The street was completely empty but for the clients' cars.

He stomped back in, pulling out his phone. Rowen was still standing on the couch, his own phone out, taking a photo of the damage.

“Nicky.”

“What?” Nicky growled, already dialling Shane, feeling his anger battle with the sudden urge to burst into tears.

Rowen pointed. There was a large rock. It had almost rolled under the couch, but it was just visible poking out. It had a rubber band stretched around it, and when Nicky picked it up he realised there was a folded piece of paper attached to it. He pulled it off, flipped it open. Felt his heart skip a beat.

It was a photograph. Of Mark.

“What's that?” He heard Rowen ask. Nicky just stared, feeling hot tears prick his eyes. Yesterday, this had been taken. There was Mark, fiddling with the jukebox, a pint in one hand and laughing at someone off-camera. Nicky. Laughing at Nicky, with him. Annie came back out. Nicky couldn't stop looking at the photo.

“Everyone's fine. What's that?”

“Call Shane.” Nicky choked on the words. Cleared his voice Tried again. “Annie, can you call Shane please? Tell him to get here now.”

“But...”

“Now.” Nicky said, feeling how hard his voice was, not caring. “Rowen, get a broom. Clean this shit up before Nina and Anton come down. I don't want to scare the clients.”

“Are you...?”

“I'm fine. Do it now.” He swallowed, glanced one more time at the photo, at the rock in his other hand. They didn't go together, somehow. Mark's smiling face and the spray of glass across the floor.

He went back to the office, thought about crying, didn't know how to start. When he heard feet on the stairs twenty minutes later, he didn't bother to go out. Not even when he heard Mark ask what had happened to the window. He didn't know how to explain, not with the photo burning a hole in his palm.

 

*

 

“What happened to the window?”

It was pretty hard to miss, a big round hole in the middle of the front window, light shining straight through it in a harsh beam that spotlighted the last flecks of broken glass. Anton was vacuuming. The TV had been pushed forward, and Rowen was crouched behind it with a dustbuster, getting into the skirting boards. Mark could hear the rattle of glass being sucked up, over the roar of both vacuums.

“Some fucker threw a rock.” Anton growled. “I came down from my appointment, and here's Rowen trying to sweep up all the fucking glass. Pricks.”

“Shit.” Mark breathed. This was worse than the graffiti somehow, not just because it was harder to fix. A bit of spray-paint was stupid vandalism, this was two incidents in less than a week. “Where's Nicky?”

“In his office.”

“What's he doing in there?”

“I don't fucking know. Probably calling the cops or something. Shane's on his way; Annie called him.”

“Fuck.” Mark glanced over to the office door. It was shut. He wanted to go check on Nicky, make sure he was okay, but he didn't want to seem like he wasn't helping. “Are you almost done?”  
  
“Go check on Nicky.” Rowen laughed. “Then you can come back and help.” He raised a knowing eyebrow, and Mark nodded back. “Piss off and let us deal with this. You can go tape the window up when you get back.”

Mark went to push in, but the handle wouldn't budge. Locked. Maybe Nicky was on the phone or something. Still, it wasn't like him to lock the door completely. He knocked carefully.

“Nix?”

Silence.

“Nicky?”

“Not now, Mark.” A strained voice called back. Mark pressed his ear to the door.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Send Shane in when he gets here, would you?”

“Erm... okay.” Mark felt his heart burrow into his throat, but whether it was the tone of Nicky's voice or the shock from the window, he wasn't sure.

He was covering the outside of the window with cardboard and taping it when Shane rolled up. There were spidery cracks all over the glass, and Mark was honestly surprised it hadn't fallen in yet. He was being careful, trying not to press on the window unless he had to, but every moment was a gamble. He felt like it was about to collapse at any second.

“Fuck. What happened?” Shane pushed his glasses up his forehead, squinting at the damage.

“I don't know, really.” Mark climbed down off the ladder, running the electrical tape across the bottom of the cardboard as gently as he could. “I came down to let Tony out and there was glass everywhere. Rowen and Annie were there, but... I dunno. They both seem pretty shaken up.”

“Who else is in?”

“Anton. Nicky. Anton's pretty pissed off.”

“How's Nicky?”

“I haven't seen him.” Mark admitted. “He's been locked in the office since it happened. He said to send you in when you got here. So, y'know, you've been sent in, like. Can you check he's alright? He wouldn't let me in. He's probably just upset, but check on him for me, yeah?” It all came out in a rush. Mark hadn't realised how much he was fretting until he said it out loud, but he was really worried about Nicky. It wasn't like Nicky to shut him out.

“Course.” Shane sighed, pushing through the front door. Mark watched him go, feeling anxiety rise in his throat. He swallowed it back down. Even if they were being targeted, there was no reason to fly off the handle about it. It wouldn't help anybody, certainly not Nicky.

When he went back inside to do the other side of the glass. Shane was just being let into the office. For a split moment he caught a look at Nicky's face, ashen and blank, and then it was gone.

 

*

 

Nicky and Shane sat across from each other for long moments, neither moving or speaking. Nicky didn't know what to say. Shane looked like he had too much to say and couldn't figure out how to do it without getting upset. There was a tic under his eye, making his whole face look as nervous as Nicky felt.

Nicky spoke first.

“So, we call the police?”

“Yeah, we do.” Shane sighed. Eyed the rock Nicky was still clutching in one hand. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. No, I...” Nicky swallowed. He wanted to kill something. Just strangle it dead with his bare hands. He settled for squeezing the rock again, feeling the rough edges bite into his palm. “You can't tell Mark.”

“That the window's broken? I think he knows. He's out taping it up now.”

“No. This was...” Nicky looked down at the photo in his hand, almost unable to let go of it. He knew he should. He had to show Shane. But his fingers didn't want to loosen, just kept crushing the paper tighter and tighter. It was a grainy photo, probably printed off a phone, but it was clearly Mark. There was no mistaking that beautiful, open grin, the laugh in his eyes. Nicky touched it for a moment, letting his fingers caress Mark's lips. He hadn't been able to let Mark in, knew he'd break down in a moment if he actually set eyes on him. “...this was with it. Tied to the rock.” He forced himself to pass it over to Shane, loosen his grip when Shane pulled it away and turned it around to look.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Nicky agreed. “Don't tell him.”

“Why not? Is someone after him? Shit, do you think the thing the other day was about him too?” Shane was staring at the photo. Nicky had a sudden, wild urge to snatch it back, never let it go. “Fuck, Nicky, this is bad. We need to call the police. You have to tell Mark.”

“I...” Nicky swallowed. No, the last thing they needed to do was upset Mark. Not his Mark, who just wanted to see if there was any Beyoncé on the jukebox, who just wanted a pint and a steak sandwich and to sit in the booth with him, holding his hand and giggling after some pretty excellent sex. Not his Mark, who wanted two dogs, and liked watching terrible talent competitions on TV, and ate cereal out of a coffee mug when there were no clean dishes left, and sang randomly in the bathroom. Nicky wouldn't upset him for the world. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” Nicky took a deep breath, shrugged. He didn't know how to put it into words, how much he wanted to shield Mark from every possible thing the world could throw at him. How telling Mark that this had been about him would break Nicky's heart. Because why would anyone go after Mark? He was sweet, and kind, and had already been through enough shit already. “Shay, I just... I don't know. He doesn't deserve this.”

“None of us do, Nicky.” Shane stood up, pacing a little bit around his desk. “I'm sorry, but I'm really pretty fucked off right now and I need you to snap out of it.”

Nicky nodded, reaching out the pick up the photo Shane had left on a table. That fucking cute, laughing smile stared back at him. “Yeah.”

“I'm calling the police. We're showing them that picture, okay? And the fucking graffiti. Has anything else happened?” Nicky shook his head. “Right.” Shane was already dialling. “Seriously, snap the fuck out of it. I don't have time for you to have a fucking breakdown.”

Nicky blazed with sudden anger. He stood up, hands trembling. The rock was still in one of them, but he barely even noticed.

“Don't you fucking dare.”

“Dare what? To give two shits about my fucking business?”

“It's my fucking business!”

“It's ours. And you're not doing much of fucking anything right now except sitting on your arse and bitching about your boyfriend. I've got a hole in the front window, I've just finished wiping some filthy fucking language off the front of the building, an employee that might just be the fucking reason for all this shit, and now I'm trying to deal with you while you sit there and freak out. Mark's a fucking adult, Nicky. If he's in trouble, you need to tell him, and I need to make sure it's not a fucking molotov coming through the front door next. Hello? Police please.”

Nicky clenched his fists, staring at Shane, who was breathing hard.

“You on hold?” He asked. Shane nodded. “Okay. Fuck you.”

Shane rolled his eyes, turning back to the phone. After a minute he began to speak, explaining the situation to the person on the other end surprisingly calmly. When he was finished, he put the phone down and sat on the edge of the desk, staring at Nicky.

“I'm sorry.” Nicky said finally. Shane nodded, his face blank. That tic was still twitching under his eye though.

“I'm sorry too. That was harsh.”  
  
“No.” Nicky went to run a hand over his face, then realised he was still holding the rock. He put it down on the desk, feeling his fingers relax for the first time in what seemed like forever. They both looked at it nervously, as though it was ticking down to an explosion. “I didn't handle that well.”

“Not really, no.” Shane agreed. “You alright?”

“Not at all.” Nicky laughed softly. “How the hell do I tell the love of my fucking life that this is personal? I can't even get my head around it.”

“You want a hug?”

Nicky nodded, crossing the distance between them and letting Shane pull him into a hug, a bit awkward with him sitting on the desk, but still something comforting to hold onto.

“You really think I don't care about the business?”

“No. I think you care about Mark more, which is fair. If I had a fella I probably would too. It's just frustrating sometimes. I joined you in this, and now I feel like I'm doing all the work while you flutter about with your boyfriend.”

“I don't know what to say to that.” Nicky admitted. He was distractable, sure, always had been, but his heart and soul was in this place. Maybe that was it, maybe he let his emotions get the better of him while Shane knuckled down and did the grown-up stuff. “I feel like I put everything I have into this.”

“I know you do. I don't really want you doing my part anyway, you'd just cock it up.” Shane gave him a gentle smile. Nicky thought it was supposed to tell him that there were no hard feelings, but Nicky couldn't feel that there weren't. “I'm sorry. I'm tired, and stressed out, and I blew up at you for the wrong reasons.”

“What were the right reasons?”

“You need to tell Mark.” Shane said quietly. “You gonna keep something from him? You two tell each other everything, sometimes in front of us. It's revolting.” Nicky nodded, he knew it was the truth. He could no more lie to Mark than he could make the Earth turn in the other direction. And he couldn't hide in the office avoiding him forever, even if he was pretty sure he was going to burst into tears the moment he looked into Mark's big, concerned eyes.

“That all?”

“For now, yeah.” Shane reached out to pull Nicky into another hug. Nicky went willingly. “I'm stressed out and tired, the boys are probably freaking out, and when I came in Annie was trying to remember how to work the kettle. Let's close down for the day. The police are on the way anyway, so I don't think we'll be getting much business. People will probably think we're being raided.”

“What about the clients?”

“I'll get Annie to reschedule the appointments. The boys can stick around until the police leave. Witnesses or something.”

Nicky nodded, glad Shane was the kind of person to take charge of this kind of shit. He didn't think he could do it without him, not any more.

“Let's go wait for the guard.” 

“Can you send Mark in first?” Nicky asked, as Shane went to walk toward the door. “I don't want him to hear about this when we tell them. I should say something first.”

“Of course.” Shane nodded, pushing open the door. Nicky could see Mark standing out there, trying to look nonchalant and doing a bad job. “Bring the photo out when you're done. We'll need it to show the police.”

 

*

 

The first thing Mark noticed was how small Nicky looked. Hunched and gathered in, like he was trying to suck himself into nothingness. He didn't even look up when Mark walked in, just kept staring at a square of paper in his hand like he was trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I know. What's wrong?” He crouched down in front of Nicky, trying to make eye contact, but Nicky just tucked himself in further, biting his lip. “Shane said the police are coming. You want me to make you coffee or something? Annie's boiling the kettle.”

“No. I'm fine.” Nicky swallowed. Mark felt his heart hurt. He reached up to brush Nicky's cheek, smiling when he felt the older boy press into it.

“It's just a window, Nix. Some fuckhead threw a rock. I'm sure the insurance will cover it. Shane's giving everyone the afternoon off, so maybe we can go do something once the police are gone. Go to the shops or something, get your mind off it.” It was the best thing when Nicky was upset, a bit of retail therapy. Get him in front of a dressing room mirror with a good selection of tight jeans and he'd be right as rain again. “What you got there?”

“It's a picture of you.”

“That's nice.” Mark joked, prying it out of Nicky's hands, feeling the resistance, trying to make light of the whole thing. Nicky was way too upset about this, and Mark was just the person to cheer him up. Yeah, Mark was angry too, really fucking angry, especially after Tuesday, but it was hard to be yelling and punching things when Nicky was so obviously down. He looked at the picture. It looked like it had been taken on Nicky's phone, him standing at the jukebox the day before with a pint in his hand, looking flushed and drunk. “Not my best, my teeth look huge. Why'd you print it out?” He didn't much see the sense himself, Nicky would have a copy on his phone anyway, and it looked all crumpled.

“I didn't. Fuck.” Nicky looked up, and for the first time Mark could see the tears in his eyes. “I don't even know how to... I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course. I love you too.” Mark leaned in to kiss Nicky, surprised when Nicky pulled away. “Nicky, what the fuck is going on?” Okay, now he was getting pissed off. Nicky was always emotional, but the wilting flower thing was starting to give him the shits, especially when Nicky was being so closed up about it. Locking him out, then being all cryptic. How the hell was Mark supposed to help? “Seriously, you gotta help me out here.”

Nicky laughed. It sounded broken. Mark took his hand, felt Nicky try to pull it away, didn't let him.

“It was tied to the rock.” He said softly. “The picture. It was tied to the rock.”

Mark didn't know what to say to that. Nicky was staring at him. Mark looked back down at the picture, trying to get his head round it. He didn't know how to feel yet. Just felt kind of numb, like this couldn't possibly real. How could it? This wasn't something that actually happened. He felt like he was watching himself in a really bad made-for-TV movie, where at the end it would turn out he had been his secret twin brother all along.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Nicky whispered. He stood up, pushing away from Mark. Put his fist into the wall. Once. Twice. Mark thought he saw the plaster crack.

“Come here.” He pulled Nicky into a stiff hug, not sure what else to do. He could hear movement outside, Shane talking to someone. “I think the guard are here. We need to go out.”

“In a second.” Nicky pulled back, hands coming up to frame Mark's face. Mark let him, feeling completely helpless. He was sure he should be more frightened, but the lost look in Nicky's eyes was too much to deal with right now, and he didn't know what any of it meant. His picture. On a rock. Through the window. It was too big and chaotic. Nicky needed him. That was simple. He turned his head to kiss Nicky's palm, watched Nicky's face crumple a little bit before straightening back out. Nicky pulled away, clearing his throat, shaking himself.

“Alright?”

“Not in the slightest.” Nicky coughed again, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked almost presentable again. Mark was afraid to touch him in case he broke. “Come on.”

The police were nice enough. Mark wasn't sure what he'd expected. Part of him thought they'd be dismissive about the whole thing. Not homophobic exactly, but sex-workers weren't necessarily top of the list as far as the law was concerned. They place was above board, of course, Nicky had always been adamant about complying with code, but he knew they weren't a priority. You heard the stories, obviously, about some poor girl getting beaten, or some guy getting raped, and the police just shrugging and asking if they'd brought it on themselves.

It had been a bit like that with the guy that had raped him at Bryan's. They'd taken down his details in the hospital and nodded courteously. Mark suspected that they hadn't intended to do much of anything, except for the fact that a bunch of other guys had already come forward with the same allegations and they had the guys details on record from the booking. Not that they were his actual details. It was a stolen credit card and ID, but once they'd tracked that the whole thing had come unravelled pretty quickly. Mark still suspected most of the conviction had been for identity theft rather than assault.

They were polite, an older lady and a younger guy, both in waterproof jackets with walkie-talkies on their hips. They took photos of the window. Rowen showed them the picture he'd taken right after it happened, the shower of glass on the floor. Kian had taken a photo of the graffiti before they'd washed it off, and they took a copy of that too. Took down names, asked if they knew anyone who might be a suspect. The woman seemed friendly, if abrupt, gave them a number to call if anything else happened. Nicky and Shane did most of the talking. Mark didn't know what to say. He kept wanting to look at the photo again. The police took it with them, wrote down notes about where and when it had been taken, promising to look into it. Annie managed to make coffee with Anton's help, even though her hands were shaking badly.

They left after about an hour. The guy was looking at Mark thoughtfully, kept glancing at the photo in the evidence baggie. Mark didn't much like it, but he supposed it was just part of the job. Nicky asked what they should do, if it was a threat. They said there wasn't much they could do, but if they wanted to go to a hotel for a couple of days to get out of the house it probably wouldn't hurt. Mark declined. He couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be than at home.

Liam arrived, took a long, lingering look at the window, swore, then let Rowen drive he and Anton home rather than wait an hour for the return bus. Nicky began to send texts to Blarney and Evan to let them know not to come in. Annie was calling the clients, spinning a story about a burst pipe in the bathroom upstairs. And no, it'd all be fine in a couple of days. Would they like to reschedule for Saturday? Most of them seemed happy to, but Mark suspected Bryan might have just earned new clients for a few days. She went home too, giving all of them a hug and kiss on the cheek on the way out.

Then it was just the four of them again, like the old days.

“Well, this is fucked.”

Trust Kian to sum it up. They were sat around the back patio, Nicky and Kian on the frayed fold-out chairs, he and Shane on wooden ones they'd dragged out from the kitchen. It was a warmish day for this early in the year. They sat in a circle, all four of them smoking up a storm, even Kian, who was the least likely of the four of them to light up. Shane had already blitzed through three, one after the other, and Mark was on his second one. There had been more or less silence in the ten minutes or so they'd been sitting out there, except for the occasional beeps of Kian playing with his phone.

There wasn't much to say.

Nicky was staring into space, Shane was staring at his shoes. Mark was staring at his hands, distracting himself occasionally by reaching out to touch Nicky's shoulder.

“I can't remember the last time it was just the four of us hanging out in one place. So that's... you know. Not, nice, like. But...” Kian shrugged. “You know, circumstances aside.”

“I guess, yeah.” Shane stubbed out his third cigarette. “We don't really hang out much any more. One of us is always at bloody work. You're with Jake. These two are always off shagging.” Mark saw Nicky manage a smile at that, and was glad. “I can't remember the last time we had a lads night. I can't even remember the last time I got genuinely bladdered. Like, completely fucked up.”

“I went out last Tuesday.” Kian said.

“How was it?”

“Yeah, okay. Went with Jake and some mates of his from work. Didn't end up staying out that late. Jake had to be up for work, so.”

“That's very mature of you.” Mark laughed. “I remember you getting blasted on a school night all the time. Right as rain in the morning. You and Shane'd take a load of something you bought in the bathroom and go mental. I still remember when Shane tried to stage dive off the bar.”

“And there wasn't anyone to catch him, because it was only eleven o'clock at night and the place was half-empty.” Nicky piped up, starting to giggle. “And he landed on Kian and cracked the back of his head open.”

“That's right!” Kian was cracking up now, his phone forgotten. “And he didn't want to go to the hospital because he was worried they'd nick him for being under the influence, and he wanted to keep dancing, but the bouncers kicked him out for bleeding all over the floor.”

“I've still got the scars.” Shane tilted his head forward to show them. Two small white scars hidden in his hair. “Eight stitches and a concussion. Top night, though.” He grinned. “We need to do that again.”

“Yeah.” Mark sighed. The silence fell back in again, a little but more comfortable now they'd had a chance to break the tension. Kian was laughing to himself, even Nicky was smiling a little bit.

 

*

 

They got back in after dark, having sat outside together until the sun was going down, just talking and smoking. Nicky was the first to admit that he didn't really want to leave, that the idea of going back to their own house, alone, wasn't something he was particularly looking forward to. But Mark was adamant, didn't want to go uprooting himself any more than he had to. Kian had even offered to let them stay at his, but Mark said no. He wanted somewhere familiar and comfortable to sleep. Nicky couldn't deny him that.

He was edgy, though, for all his declarations that their house was perfectly safe. Nicky watched him moving around the living room, randomly tidying, tossing beer bottles into a cardboard box for the recycling. Nicky didn't stop him. He felt a little bit sick from all the cigarettes and just wanted to sit on the couch, watch some TV and distract himself.

Mark was blocking the television, tidying the coffee table. Nicky didn't mind. There wasn't really anything on and there wasn't much that could compare to a good view of Mark, who was already in a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt. He looked swamped in them, and Nicky just wanted to hold him close and take care of him.

He was throwing away old magazines now, tossing them in a garbage bag. Some car magazines that Nicky considered asking to keep, but then decided against. There was a pretty sizeable stack of them next to the toilet already, and he was about three more from turning into an episode of Hoarders.

“What's that?”

“What?” Mark looked at the magazine he was just about to throw out. Nicky reached out, peeling an envelope off the back. Probably a bill or something that had gotten mixed in without them realising it. It stuck to the glossy paper for a moment, tacky with beer, and then came off. Nicky turned it over. There was nothing written on it. “Oh shit, yeah. That came in the post yesterday. Must've forgot.”

“What is it?” Nicky stuck his thumb under the seam, beginning the tear it open. It felt slightly lumpy, like there were a few pieces of paper in there. Coupons or something, maybe. Some local business letterdrop. He got it open and tipped out the contents. Heard the sharp intake of breath above him.

It was more photos of Mark.

Mark walking in the front door at work, standing out the front of their house with the newspaper in one hand. Mark getting into his car with a bag of groceries.

Mark and Nicky, holding hands in the supermarket. Kissing in front of the chip shop, a cigarette dangling from Mark's free hand.

Mark, reaching up with a mop to scrub pink spraypaint off the bricks. Mark.

His Mark.

And all of them had the word 'whore' written across the front in thick pink marker.

“I'm calling the police.” Nicky said. It was all he could think to say. “Get your shit together, we're going to Kian's.”

“But...”

“Now.”


	5. Friday

It was after midnight. Nicky didn't think he could sleep if he tried. Mark and Kian were both drinking vodka and coke, looking exhausted. Nicky felt exhausted, but sleep was out of the fucking question. Every time he closed his eyes, he just saw...

The police had come and gone. The same guy, another woman. She bagged up all the pictures, took their statements, asked if they had somewhere to stay. Nicky was glad she had taken the photos. He couldn't have stood to look at them again. They'd had a few beers, called Shane to let him know. He had sworn loudly. A really inventive stream of profanity that would have made his mother blush. Then he'd come round with a bottle of vodka. They had made a good start on it before Shane had started dozing on the couch and been packed into a cab to go home. There was nothing he could do anyway, and at least he had a warm bed at home. He looked as exhausted as the rest of them.

Kian's flat was nice. Nicky hadn't really been over much, they often wound up at his and Mark's, and Kian was usually at Jake's anyway. It wasn't huge, was exactly the right size for Kian's stuff and not much else. It didn't look unlived in, necessarily, but there was a stale, clean feeling to it, like he'd tidied a while back and it hadn't been touched since.

Nicky was pretty sure he was drunk, but he was too angry to bother with feeling it. He just felt sort of numb and miserable. Mark was tucked against his side on the couch, head on Nicky's ribs. Nicky didn't want him to move. Touching Mark was about the only thing keeping him going. Having tangible proof that Mark was right there, safe. Mark took another swallow of vodka, pulled a face. Nicky stroked his hair, pulling it back from his forehead, wanting to look at all of Mark at once.

“Who the hell's doing it?” Kian asked. It was about the sixth time he'd asked. Nicky didn't think he expected an answer. None of them knew anyway. “Did you piss someone off you don't know about?”

Nicky shrugged. They'd been over this. Disgruntled clients, people who'd been fired, maybe, or someone from when Mark had worked at Bryan's. It all seemed a bit pointless and abstract. Nicky couldn't think of anyone who'd have cause to hate Mark. He got along with everyone, never ruffled feathers. Hell, the only person who'd ever had something against Mark was Kian, but that was it's own particular piece of history. Seemed a bit late now, anyway, unless the last three years of solid friendship had all been a devious ruse. He was pretty sure Kian would remember taking photos of Mark, printing them out, and scribbling the word 'whore' across them.

Even the thought made Nicky shudder. Mark looked up at him, stroking his thigh gently with a finger. He was being surprisingly calm about this, but that was Mark all over. Nicky never quite knew what was going on in his head, even though they'd been together forever. He usually liked it, liked that even now he was learning new things about Mark. That Mark would think about things for ages before putting them into words. Now he didn't know how to feel. He didn't exactly want Mark to break down into tears, he was the strong one of the two of them, after all, but Nicky didn't know how to help, if he even needed help. It was just one more piece of the helplessness he was feeling.

“I'm going to bed.” Mark yawned, standing up and stretching. His eyes were sleepy, heavy with alcohol.

“Why?”

“Because I'm tired.” Mark reached out to stroke Nicky's hair. “You coming?”

They'd already had the argument about Kian giving up his bed for the couch. It made sense, Nicky knew. You could only fit one on the couch, and it wasn't like Kian was going to be sharing the bed with one of them, but he still felt bad about displacing Kian. This was his house after all.

They got in, the sheets clean but unfamiliar. They didn't smell right or feel right. But then Mark put his arms around Nicky's waist, spooned them together, and that felt so right it didn't matter about the rest. The light seeping under the bedroom door flicked off.

“You okay?” Nicky asked softly, when he was sure Kian was asleep. You couldn't not be sure. Kian always snored when he was drunk.

“Not really, no.” Mark replied, his voice quiet and real in Nicky's ear. Nicky pushed back into it, feeling strong arms tighten around him. “You okay?”

“No.” Nicky twisted his neck to place an awkward kiss on Mark's lips. “I'm terrified out of my mind and I don't know what to do to make it right.” Mark kissed him back, so Nicky turned in his arms so he wouldn't put his neck out. Mark's breath tasted sweet and alcoholic, his lips were dry. He felt wonderful.

“Yeah.” Mark agreed. “I just wish I knew who it was, y'know? Why...” He pulled Nicky in closer, their foreheads touching. “I don't know what I did to make this happen.”

“It's not your fault.”

“It must be.” Mark's eyes were closed. Nicky kissed him, trying to comfort, not knowing how to. When they broke apart, those soft lips were trembling. “I must have done something. Even if it's some mental, why me? This is personal. It's not just some graffiti, this is about me. They spent time making sure everybody knew it was about me, following me around for photos or whatever. Shit, taking photos of you too. And I don't know what I did.”

Nicky didn't know how to answer that question, so he just pulled Mark's face against his chest and closed his eyes, hoping somehow Mark would feel his heart and know he was the one who kept it beating.

 

*

 

“Hey.” Mark felt his voice crack around a throat full of sleep. He yawned, smirking when Nicky yawned in response. “Take that.”

“You're contagious.” Nicky smiled. His eyes had been open when Mark woke, and appeared to have been for quite some time. He snuggled in, wincing at the dry feeling in his mouth. Two mornings of hangovers was one too many. “Sleep okay?”

Mark shrugged. They both knew that neither of them had slept well. Mark had woken more than once to find Nicky staring at the ceiling, and he knew he'd woken Nicky with his own constant tossing and turning. Even with the help of the vodka, there was just too much going on in his head to get any real sleep.

It had been okay the day before, dealing with things and keeping busy, trying to charge at the problem, even if he wasn't sure which direction he was supposed to be facing. Trying to take care of Nicky, even doing things like packing and rushing over to Kian's, talking to the police. At least there was something to do, to keep his hands and mind busy.

But at three in the morning, listening to the silence in the house and trying to lie still, it was torture. There was just too much going on that he couldn't do anything about, couldn't make sense of. There was too much that he didn't understand, and it made him feel helpless. In a weird way he wasn't even concerned about himself, was more worried about Nicky's safety, about Shane and Kian and all the others. A rock was a small thing, but after the spray-paint and the photos, he couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. There had been something almost every day this week, and yeah, the graffiti and the photos couldn't hurt you, but if that rock had hit someone, if it had hit Nicky, or if something else happened, if Nicky got hurt, if something happened to Kian because they were here, he didn't know how he could live with himself.

And then he'd lain awake early, jumping at every noise, dropping into fitful, confused dreams that made him wake again at the brush of a branch against the window or the crunch of a car in the street outside. He was exhausted, too tired to even burst into tears. He wanted to sleep forever. He wanted to sit outside the door with a cricket bat, guarding Nicky against everything.

He knew he should probably feel more worried for his own safety, but that was just too big a thought to deal with.

“I'm so tired.” He muttered, not even to Nicky. Just because it was true and he was so painfully aware of it. Hands gathered his up, kissed his fingertips. “Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Nicky bit his finger lightly. Mark could see he was trying to keep things light, be playful, try to make him smile a little bit, but Mark wasn't sure he could remember how. He pulled his hands out of Nicky's grip, rolled onto his back. A few moments later, a head came to rest on his chest, an arm around his waist. It was comforting, he supposed, but at the same time he wanted to push Nicky off, roll him in bubble-wrap and shove him in a bunker somewhere. Nicky's touch was too much. There was just too much going on.

He rolled away again, got up to go to the bathroom, just for something to do. He had to pass through the living room to get there, walked softly because he could see Kian fast asleep, one arm dangling off the couch onto the floor, a blanket all bunched up around his knees, mouth wide open and drooling. It would have been funny, if Mark had felt much like laughing. When he got back, Nicky was sitting up in bed, flicking through a book from the pile next to Kian's bed.

“What you reading?”

“Unauthorized Pearl Jam biography.”

“Sounds riveting.”

“Yeah.” Nicky closed it, tossed it back on the pile. “How you doing?”

Mark sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his chin in his hands. Nicky climbed over to wrap around him, but Mark shrugged him off. “Not now, Nick.” He felt bad about it, but being grabbed right now was not on his list of priorities. He felt too big for his skin, stretched.

“Why, what's wrong?”

“Seriously?” Mark turned to look at him, knowing Nicky was probably hurt. He didn't want to hurt Nicky. He just... “...give me a minute, yeah? Sorry. But... just give me a minute.”

Nicky nodded mutely. Mark turned back to rest on his hands, staring through his knees to his feet. They seemed really far away. He stared at them for a moment, wriggling his toes, looking at the chipped polish, trying to focus on something other than the need to put his fist through the wall. He could hear Nicky breathing behind him, focused on it. Tried to match his own to it. Too fast. Slowed his own down, heard Nicky's slow too.

“Everyone keeps asking me if I'm okay.” He said finally. “I'm not, yeah? I know Kian and everyone are worried or whatever, but it's starting to piss me off because I'm not okay. It's all 'you alright?' and 'how you doing?' and I'm not doing great, and I don't know what people expect me to say back other than 'everything's fucked, I feel like shite'.” He swallowed, feeling his throat clump with unshed tears. A hand reached out for his shoulder. He flinched back. Heard Nicky swallow. He knew Nicky was tactile, that his first response to a problem was hugs and kisses and all that, but Mark just felt choked. And now he had another thing he had to feel bad about. “Sorry, just... not now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to go take a shower.” Mark said finally. “Kian's still asleep, but if you want to make coffee or something I'll be out in a bit.” He tried to put it tactfully, tell Nicky he just wanted to be alone, but he heard the responding silence, felt Nicky sag behind him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It was quiet, almost a whisper, but it was enough.

 

*

 

Nicky made the coffee, woke up Kian, turned on the TV. The shower was running, steam billowing out from under the door. He started working his way through all the texts that had accumulated through the night, most of them from staff asking when they could come back to work. Nicky wanted to tell them Saturday, but he wasn't really sure. They needed to get back to normal as soon as possible – this was their paychecks, in the end – but he couldn't focus on what it would take to get up and running. Shane was going in to meet the glaziers for the window, so the place should be back to normal, at least cosmetically, but Nicky didn't know how safe it was. Mark couldn't go back in until this was all sorted out, obviously, but Nicky didn't know how he felt about leaving him home alone while he went back into work, and he couldn't make Shane do it all for him, especially when this was supposed to be his weekend off.

There were two texts from Bryan, asking first if everything was okay, then if he needed any help. News obviously spread fast. Nicky wouldn't have been surprised if one of the guys had told him. Evan and Anton had both used to work for Bryan, and Mark had too, come to that, so the story would have trickled through quite quickly. Nicky told him not to worry, it was all being sorted. A text from his mam, asking if they were still coming over for lunch. He didn't know how to reply to that. He didn't think he had the energy to be sociable, if he should even be taking Mark out of the house. If he could even tell his parents what was going on, or if he was going to sit there for hours not talking about it.

He just didn't know what to fucking do.

“How's Mark?” Kian asked.

“Hah!” Nicky barked. It came out more angry than he intended. “Take a guess.”

“That good?”

“Mmm.” Nicky leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The shower was still going, had been for a long time. He wanted to go in, wrap himself around Mark, feel the hot water relax them both, but knew it wasn't welcome. He understood. Mark always got jumpy when he was stressed, didn't like being held down or held still. Nicky just didn't know how else to help.

“What's the plan for today?”

“Dunno. S'posed to go to me mam and dad's, but I don't know.”

“Is that safe, like?”

“I don't know. They could follow him to my parents house, pull something there. Fuck, whoever's doing this could be sitting outside here right now. I don't know.” He looked over at Kian, who was staring blankly into his coffee. “Sorry, that's probably freaked you right out now.”

“I was already freaked out.” Kian shrugged. “I just wish I could put a face on this thing. If I knew who it was, I could punch them the fuck out, and then we'd be sorted. I could go back to my old life.”

“Sorry.”

“No. You know I don't mean it like that.” Kian picked up the remote, started changing channels. It wasn't like they were watching it anyway. “Stay as long as you need, seriously. It's probably safer than yours. If anyone tries to get in they'll have to buzz up, and the rest of the building will probably notice if rocks start coming through windows. There's security cameras out there anyway, on the front door. We should maybe get them for work? If something else kicks off we'll be able to get a number plate or something.”

“Not a bad idea.” Nicky agreed. “I never thought we'd need them, you know? Like if someone was going to pull something it'd happen in the rooms, not out on the front step. I'll look into it.” At least it gave him something to do that day, even if he didn't leave Kian's couch. He'd call Shane and put it to him today. “You staying in today?”

“Said I go help Shane with the window.” Kian yawned, taking another sip of his coffee. “Stay here if you like, though. I've got a spare set of keys you can borrow if you need to go out. Just don't shag on me bed.”

Nicky snorted. Yeah, he didn't think that was likely. The shower turned off. He could hear Mark moving around, but he didn't come out. Probably drying off or something. He hadn't even been singing, which was odd for him.

“What's Jake doing today?”

“Dunno. Sent him a text last night to say you were round, but I didn't hear back. He usually goes to the gym on Saturdays, so probably that.”

Nicky nodded. He didn't know how Kian did it, go a moment of the day without knowing where his boyfriend was, what he was doing, how he was feeling... fuck it, if Nicky was away from Mark he even sat around wondering what he smelled like.

So maybe he was a little bit obsessed.

Mark's phone rang in the bedroom. Nicky pushed off the couch and went to collect it, fishing around under the blankets until he closed his hands on it. Private number.

“Mark's phone.”

There was a breath, and then a click when the connection was cut. Nicky pulled it away, stared at it for a long moment.

“Who was it?” Mark was stood in the doorway, a towel around his waist, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Erm... nobody.” Nicky said, squinting at the phone. “How do you check missed calls on this thing?”

Mark took it from his hand, pressing buttons until the right screen came up. Nicky resisted the urge to lean against him, that big, damp, soapy smell completely intoxicating.

“Unknown number.” Mark shrugged. “Wrong number, maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Nicky pursed his lips. “I don't know. I just heard breathing for a minute, and then it cut out.”

“Do we call the police or something? Just in case? I mean, maybe it was just a wrong number.” Nicky looked up at him. Mark's brow was furrowed, his eyes tired and concerned. Nicky let his hand slip into Mark's, gratified by the answering squeeze.

“Can you call it back?”

Mark hit the reply button, put it on speaker so they could both hear. It rang for a long time, and then stopped.

Nicky's phone rang ten minutes later, while Mark was making another round of coffee.

 

*

 

They'd not been sitting in the police station more than five minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Nicky kept getting up and sitting back down again. It was pissing Mark off, but then everything was pissing him off so he didn't bother saying anything. They were sitting in a small office cubicle on the other side of a desk. The call had been brief, Mark wasn't even sure particularly what they were here for, just that they'd been asked to come in and look at a couple of photos.

A police officer came in, a young guy, the same one who'd been in with the lady cop when the rock came through the window. He greeted and shook their hands, introducing himself as Officer Andy Burroughs. Mark studied him. He was sure he was familiar somehow, the name too. Something had twigged when he was looking at the photo from the day before. He couldn't place it, though. Something...

“I know you from somewhere, don't I?” He said finally. Fuck it, there was no harm in asking.

“Erm... yeah.” Andy smiled. “Sort of. I wasn't going to say anything, but I was on the case a few years ago. The assault case, identity theft?”

“Oh god, yeah!” Mark found himself saying. He'd just been a young guy, and Mark hadn't really paid much attention at the time. He'd just wanted the whole thing behind him. “You took my statement!”

“Yeah. You look a bit better now, if that helps.” Officer Andy laughed. “How've you been?” Mark shrugged, gesturing at where they were. Andy gave him a bashful smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, obviously.”

“Why are we here?” Nicky interrupted. Mark glared at him. Nicky raised his hands in apology. “Sorry, pressing matters and that.”

“Sorry, yeah.” Andy glanced at Mark, who gave him an apologetic smile for his stressed out twat of a boyfriend. “We've been checking the security cameras at the pub, trying to get a shot of the photo being taken and we think we've found something. Do you know this woman?”

He passed them a series of grainy shots taken from above. Mark looked at them, feeling Nicky lean forward beside him. There was Nicky, sitting in the booth. Mark was out of frame, but he guessed that was because he was on the other side of the room near the jukebox. In the next booth to Nicky was a woman, turned around to face the security camera and the jukebox, a phone held up to her face. If he hadn't known, Mark would have guessed she was just playing with it, maybe sending a text. She was wearing sunglasses, seemed sort of thin, with long brown hair that fell in her face.

“I don't know her.” Nicky said. “But with the sunglasses on...”

“Yeah, never seen her.” Mark said. “Who is she?”

“We don't know. We're trying to get the security footage from the other places nearby, see if we can find her going back to a car, get a license plate or something identifying, but it's slow going. We were hoping you'd have some idea.”

The both shook their heads. Mark stared at the photo. He really had no idea, and wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more frightened. Who was this psychotic bitch and what was her fucking problem with him? What the hell had he ever done to her?

“Mark got a missed call before.” Nicky elbowed him. Mark looked up, shaken from his reverie. “Maybe they can trace it or something. That's a thing you lot can do, right?” He said to Andy, who laughed, nodding.

“If you don't mind me borrowing your phone for a few minutes, I can have a look. What happened?

“Dunno. It said private number and there was just breathing for a minute. Then when we called back it rang out.”

“Should be easy to check.” Mark hesitated for a moment, hand on his phone. There were a few... indelicate photos of he and Nicky saved on there. One in particular he didn't really want people seeing. It wasn't illegal or anything, but a picture of Nicky holding his arse open while Mark shoved half a banana in there was probably not the most public picture.

“Erm... you won't be looking at my photos, will ye?” He just about felt the heat of Nicky's blush, and had to stifle a laugh. The smile felt good on his face, even if it was just for a moment. He reached over to squeeze Nicky's hand, felt the answering stroke of fingers across his palm.

“No.” Andy raised an eyebrow. They both giggled guiltily, glancing at each other. Mark caught Nicky's eyes, stormy blue and filled with worry. He squeezed again. “I don't think I want to.”

“Yeah, no, probably not.” Nicky shook his head, a pouting smirk spreading across his face.

“Won't be ten minutes. You lads want a coffee while you wait?”

They both shook their heads, watched him leave. Mark turned to look at his boyfriend, snorting when he realised Nicky was doubled over with laughter.

“Y'alright?” He put a hand on Nicky's shaking back, stroking him from neck to waist and back up again. Nicky buried his face in his hands, crying tears of laughter. A couple of gardai looked over at them from other cubicles, but Mark barely noticed.

“Yeah, just.” Nicky began to cough, the laughter caught in his throat. “Oh shit, Marky, the one with the banana's still on there, isn't it?” Mark nodded, laughing too. “Fuck, why did you even take a photo of that?”

“It was a good day.” Mark pulled Nicky in, feeling him shake in his embrace. Kissed the tears of laughter off his cheeks. Nicky was still chuckling, pausing, and then starting up again, not able to stop. Mark kissed his nose, giggling along. “You were my banana split.”

“Split was right. I was walking funny for a week. I think my next three shits were still laced with fucking whipped cream.” Nicky buried his face in Mark's shoulder, beginning to calm down, still spasming with contained laughter.

“And a cherry on top.” Mark sniggered. He'd eaten it out of Nicky's mouth once he was done licking the leftover banana out of Nicky's arse and the rainbow sprinkles off his cock. Hands squeezed his back, still trembling with laughter. Nicky sighed slowly, relaxing his shoulders. Mark kissed the top of his head. “You got yourself under control?”

“Yeah.” Nicky hiccuped a laugh. “Yeah. Sorry.” He settled back into his seat, grinning stupidly. “I feel better.”

“Good.” Mark took his hand. Didn't let it go.

 

*

 

The phone call was from the payphone a block from their house.

Nicky sat in the passenger seat on the way back. He couldn't drive, his hands were shaking too much. Mark sat behind the steering wheel, staring blankly out the front, weaving through traffic on autopilot.

Officer Andy had told them he'd see if he could find security camera footage of the payphone, but was pretty honest about their chances. Nicky got the feeling he was the only one actually working on the case, everyone else seemed pretty disinterested, and in the grand scheme of things he supposed they weren't really a priority. Nobody had been murdered. They were just a sad collection of faggot whores copping a bit of probably-deserved vandalism. Andy did seem to be taking it seriously, though, and Nicky was grateful, even felt a little bit ashamed of the way he'd spoken to him at first.

He'd almost wanted to ask what Mark had looked like, the first time the two of them had met, but decided against it. He didn't think he really wanted to know. He was worrying enough about Mark to start doing it retroactively.

He texted his mam to tell her they wouldn't be over and sorry about the short notice. He thought about calling her, but it was all too much to deal with.

He just kept thinking about that picture. That woman, whoever she was. Mark didn't seem to know, and Nicky didn't think he'd ever seen her before. If he was honest, he was expecting a bloke, some ex-boyfriend maybe. He couldn't think what this woman would have against Mark. Maybe he'd shagged her husband or something? He couldn't think, couldn't get his head around it. He was sort of comforted by the fact that the call had been near their house. Maybe she didn't know they were at Kian's.

Shane called, wanting to know if they wanted to go out for a pint and check out some security cameras – Kian had filled him in on their earlier conversation – and, once he'd checked with Mark, Nicky agreed. There wasn't going to be much good done by sitting around Kian's, stewing in their own thoughts and watching TV while Nicky tried not to burst into tears. He could hear hammering in the background. Apparently the windows were almost done and Shane could meet them in an hour or so if they wanted.

They pulled into the shopping centre parking lot. It wasn't that busy, being mid-afternoon on a weekday, and they got a spot easily enough undercover. Nicky went to climb out, pausing when he realised Mark wasn't doing the same.

“Coming?”

Mark pulled his hands off the steering wheel.

“Want to sit here for a bit?”

Nicky checked his watch. They were early, probably wouldn't need to start heading for the cafe to meet Shane for another half hour or so. He slid back in, shutting the door behind him.

Mark leaned his seat back as far as it would go, laying down. Nicky resisted the urge to ask if he was okay.

“What's up?”

“Nothing. Just tired. Need a minute.”

“Okay.” Nicky did the same, stretching until he was almost flat out. “Anything I can do?”

Mark shook his head, closing his eyes and putting his arm behind his head. Nicky turned on his side and reached out a hand, smiling when Mark took it with his free hand, lifted it to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “You're so fucking cute.”

Something like a smirk tweaked Mark's lips. “Cheers.”

“I was going to send Kian over to pick up some of our stuff. You want anything?”

“No thanks.”

“Do you want a drink? I might have a can of something in the glove compartment, or...”

“No thanks.”

“Do you want to get in the back? You can probably stretch out a bit better...”

“Nicky.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.” Mark settled. Within minutes he had drifted off into a doze. Nicky watched the way his lips parted slightly as his breathing deepened, felt his own eyes become heavy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper rest.

Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

 

*

 

Mark yawned, leaning back against Nicky's desk, his bare feet curled up on the carpet in front of him. He pushed up when Nicky leaned down to run a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. They'd kipped in the car for almost an hour until Shane had called Nicky's phone, wondering where the hell they were. They'd stumbled into the pub, still half asleep, and then not helped the situation by downing a pint each and eating a massive plate of potato wedges with sour cream and all the trimmings. He felt better now, sitting here watching Nicky wire up the new cameras to the old system, fiddling with the settings on the computer to get them working.

“Is that working?” Shane called out. The front door was open while he readjusted the focus.

“Bit to the left.” Nicky called back. “Can't see the street. Yeah, bit higher!”

“There?!”

“Bit lower!”

Mark stretched out his legs, curling his toes into the carpet.

“That's good, leave it!”

Shane came back in, skirting around Mark to look over Nicky's shoulder. “Result.” He dropped Nicky a high five, then leaned over the desk to give Mark one. Mark wasn't sure he'd done much except hold the camera while Shane drilled it in, but he wasn't going to complain about the recognition. “Should have us sorted, yeah? We can open back up tomorrow.”

Nicky leaned back in his chair, pushing away from the desk. “You still helping your cousin move?”

Shane shook his head. “I'll give him a hand Sunday. Already had almost two days off now, gotta come in tomorrow and do catch-up.”

Mark thought Nicky was going to tell Shane not to bother, but in the end he nodded. Mark understood. It would be good to have both of them there, united front, like. He was quite looking forward to getting back to the routine himself. Even if they still hadn't caught that mental bitch, at least they knew who to look out for. It wasn't like some bird could walk in without them being a bit suspicious anyway, unless it was Annie or Nina.

“Where are you two staying tonight?”

“Kian's.” Nicky reached over to touch Mark's hair again. Mark was starting to feel a bit like one of those buddha things you rubbed for good luck. Not that he was complaining. He reached up to catch Nicky's hand, tangle their fingers together. “He's gonna go stay at Jake's for a couple of days.”

“You two be alright by yourselves?”

“Yeah.” Mark said, looking up at Nicky, feeling a smile dart across his face at the wink he got.

“Gonna shag in his bed?”

“Hadn't planned on it, no.” Nicky laughed.

“So that's a yes?”

“I've got work tomorrow.” Mark used Nicky's grip on his hand to pull himself up and take a seat on the desk. “I don't want to wear myself out.”

“Getting on a bit in your old age?”

“Look who's talking. When was the last time you got fucked five times in a day?”

“Er...” Shane pursed his lips, thinking. “Actually, it was the same week I shagged you, come to think of it. Must've turned me right off.”

“Hah.” Mark reached out to punch him on the shoulder, laughed when he realised Nicky was doing the same thing.

“Violence in the workplace!” Shane punched them both back.

“Stop slagging off my bloke. Anyway, I watched that one. He was on top form. You, on the other hand...” Nicky lifted his hand, seesawing it non-committally. “Eh.”

“'Eh'? Fucking 'Eh'?”

“Let's just say it's a good thing you got into management.”

“You were the one who hired me.” Shane laughed. “You've only got yourself to blame. Ask Mark, he was there. I was good shag.”

“You were a pretty good shag.” Mark conceded, bringing up his legs to cross them on the desk. “Do you ever miss it?” Shane shrugged.

“I don't know. Yes. No. It's funny, but even though I'm shagging less now, I enjoy it more. It kind of ruined regular sex for me, you know? Like, if you're a world class chef or something, you don't want to go home and cook. I was good at it, yeah, and it took the edge off, but I like getting to fuck when I want. Who I want, too. I think I got so wrapped up in the tricks and techniques and stuff that I couldn't just go out and have a messy, stupid shag. I kept thinking 'okay, now if I put my hand here, and then that should take this long, and then I do this...' It got too routine.”

“And now?”

“It's good. I've got all the experience, none of the obligations. Last week I took a bloke home and we just humped against the wall for a bit, and when I was done I realised I didn't know how long we'd been doing it. I'd stopped timing everything. Then I fucked him for a bit, because I wanted to, not because he'd paid me, then we slept for a bit, then I kicked him out the next morning.”

“Slut.” Nicky laughed.

“Exactly.” Shane nodded. “I never had the energy to slut around before. Getting my second wind. Midlife crisis.”

“I'm glad for ye.” Mark grinned, hopping down off the desk and beginning to hunt for his shoes. “I've still gotta go home, not eat anything until lunch passes through, not drink any alcohol, and then get to bed early for a big day.”

“You ever think about getting out of it?”

“Yeah, but what the hell would I do with myself? Go work at Burger King?” He glanced at Nicky, who was looking up at him. They hadn't really talked about this much. Mark liked his work, he liked being around Nicky. He was in a good place, he made a lot more money than he would anywhere else, and there wasn't much else he was good at or trained for. Unless he could make ludicrous amounts of money singing in the shower, watching bad TV, and shagging Nicky, he really didn't have that many other interests.

“I'd take care of you.” Nicky put a hand on his knee. “You could be me kept woman.”

Mark pulled a face, making Shane laugh. “Would I have to clean?”

“And cook.”

“I'd rather fuck.” Mark decided. Shane snorted.

“If we head home, you can fuck me.” Nicky stood up too. The sun was starting to go down. Kian was probably already at Jake's – he'd headed home for a shower and change after dropping Shane off at the shops, and that had been four hours ago.

“Thought you said not in Kian's bed?”

“I said I wasn't planning on it. Maybe we start in the kitchen. Things happen.”


	6. Saturday

The morning was hectic. On top of the bookings they already had, there were all the people who had rebooked from the last two days, and the boys were run off their... well, Nicky hesitated to use the word 'feet', because they were never really on their feet to start with. It was good, though. The guys were able to earn back the money they'd missed out on over the forced absence. Nicky had put extra on to keep up with demand. Ollie was in, a moonlighter who only showed up on weekends when he wasn't studying. He was tall and skinny, with hair that was always a different colour. Some of the other lads had started to take bets on what it would be each week. This week it was a light blue with dark green streaks. Ollie, Anton, and Mark were all doing the morning shift, Kian, Jeremy and Noah in the middle to cover off, and he had Liam, Blarney, Rowen and Evan doing the night. A full house.

Even more than the boys, it was nice knowing the customers were still coming in, despite the hiccup. They didn't know the circumstances, of course, but more than once he heard one of them mention to Annie that they were glad they were back open again. Yeah, they were just here for a fuck, but Nicky was happy that they felt some sort of loyalty to the place. One of the older fellas even brought in a box of chocolates for the boys, and a bunch of flowers for Annie; she thanked him profusely, then sent him upstairs so Anton could sit on his face. It was a nice moment.

Mark had four appointments booked, all regulars. Nicky wanted to check in on him more, but he was run off his own feet with everything else going on. Shane was trying to update all the accounts for the past few days as well as help check in with the boys. Gossip was rampant, obviously, so Nicky did a quick run around to explain the situation, as much as it needed to be explained. He didn't tell them it was about Mark specifically, but since Anton and Annie had been present for the last incident, rumour was pretty much uncontrollable. Nicky was sure the story would get even more interesting by the time Ro got in to confirm it. The rock was already a boulder as it was, the broken window a great tornado of broken glass that had killed all life in its path. To hear Anton tell it, the whole building had been practically on fire and he'd only been able to put it out with his cock.

Mark seemed to be doing well, was sinking himself into work. Nicky could see the worry, but Mark had just sort of switched off and was throwing himself into the job. He was on the ball, great with the clients, laughing with the other boys. He had Ivan in, one of Mark's regulars for years now, a man obsessed with Mark's feet. They were good feet, Nicky supposed, but Ivan _really_ liked them, especially this thing Mark would do where he'd stand on Ivan's back with one foot and shove the other one up his arse.

Mark was doing it now. Nicky laughed, watching the concentration on Mark's face as he tried to keep his balance while the big Russian under him twitched and cried out into the pillow. He thought Mark was going to fall for a second, but then he planted his foot, turned around, dropped down between Ivan's legs, his lips moving. Ivan turned over, and Mark sat down, pushed his right foot back into Ivan's arse, pulled his left ankle up to rest on his bent knee, and started sucking on the toes while Ivan watched, his face a picture of lust.

“He's quite bendy, isn't he?” Shane said over Nicky's shoulder, making him jump. “You wouldn't think it to look at him.”

“He's a lot of things.” Nicky confirmed, reminded once again of the banana split incident. That had been a really good day. He'd gotten food-colouring stains on his cock from the sprinkles.

“He's doing well today.”

Nicky nodded. He was. They all were. Maybe it was having everyone in one place at once, getting back to business as usual. He felt almost normal.

He flicked through the others. Anton was crouched down, stroking himself over a client's face. The guy had his mouth wide open and eyes shut, looking totally happy to be there. Ollie was bent over the side of the bed, doing a convincing job of enjoying being fucked in the arse by a middle-aged man who had taken off everything but his tie. The front door camera was up and going, and when Nicky flicked to that he could see Kian and Jeremy coming up the path, laughing about something.

There had been nothing out of the ordinary the night before. If anything, Nicky felt well-rested. They'd gone to bed early after the big lunch, and apart from a few bad dreams had slept more or less through the night. They hadn't fucked in Kian's kitchen or in the bed, just had a bit of a gropy shower that didn't lead to much of anything. They were both tired and stressed, and Mark had to be up for work the next day. It had been nice, though, the familiarity of feeling Mark all wet and slippery in his arms, soaping each others' backs and having a bit of snog.

“What you smiling at?”

“Nothing.” Nicky shook himself. “I'm good.”

 

*

 

Mark flopped down on the couch between Kian and Anton. He hadn't bothered to have a shower after Ivan, just given himself a bit of a wipe down. Ivan's sessions were always relatively clean. Mark didn't even need to touch his cock half the time, just let the guy jerk himself off while Mark did his thing. They had a good working relationship, if you could call it that, had done this thing enough times that he was pretty much able to plan it out in advance without it becoming stale. Ivan had never left unhappy, at least.

“How was my flat?” Kian elbowed him. Mark stuck his tongue out.

“Fine. How was Jake's dick?”

“Cut, curves to the left.” Mark pulled a face, making Kian laugh. “You asked. Did you shag in my bed?”

“No. Did you want us to?”

“No, thank you.”

“We shag in the same bed all the time.” Mark pointed up at the ceiling for emphasis, where he could hear the slight rhythmic thumping of Ollie's session . “We've even shagged some of the same people.”

“It's different. It's my house.”

“Yeah, no problems, mam.” Mark threw an arm around Kian's shoulder. “I'm sorry, we'll be out soon, hopefully. The guard are working on it, apparently, and with the cameras and that... We'll probably be back in on Monday if all goes well.”

“Stay as long as you need.” Kian laughed. “Seriously, I'll hardly be there anyway.”

“Oooh, Jake? Thought that wasn't serious?”

“Didn't say that. Just not going to marry the guy.”

“So it is serious?”

“It's something.” Kian said firmly. “I'm not gonna label it, except to say he's my boyfriend and that works out fine for now. Anyway...” He raised an eyebrow at Mark. “I seem to remember asking you whether you'd be getting married any time soon.”

“I think you're remembering wrong.”

“Can I ask, then?” Anton piped up. Mark pulled a face. “Come on, how long have you been together now?”

“Three years.” Mark put his arms behind his head, leaning back. He didn't really think of it as being that long. He and Nicky had just fallen into each other and then... not stopped. It wasn't like they were trying for milestones. Shit, he couldn't even remember their exact anniversary, it had all been such a messy blur of awkward kissing and drunken sex. They worked together, they met each others' parents, they rented a flat, they bought a house, and suddenly it was three years in. Nicky was comfortable, and not in a boring way. In a way where Mark knew there was always someone to back him up, to come home to, to have ridiculous sex, to have random, silly arguments with and then cuddle on the couch afterwards. They were looking at getting a dog, maybe, but that wasn't even a milestone. It was just a thing they were going to do when all this mess had blown over. It wasn't worth having a production over. It was just the next thing to do.

“That's ages!”

“Is it?”

“For me it is. I can't make that kind of commitment to a pair of jeans, and you've made it with an actual human being!”

“It wasn't really a commitment.” Mark shrugged. “We're together, and I don't want anyone else. I didn't put my hand on my heart and promise to be his boyfriend.”

“What about his husband?” Kian asked.

“What about it?”

“If he asked, what would you say?”

“Why would he ask?”

“But if he did.”

“If he did what?”

“Oh forget it!” Kian raised his hands, looked up, as if to ask Ollie's thumping bed for guidance. Mark laughed. Maybe he was being intentionally obstinate, but it was so much fun to frustrate Kian. “God, I hope Nicky never does ask. You'll just run him in circles until he takes it back.”

“Takes what back?” They all looked round to see Nicky standing in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets. He looked delicious. Mark blew a kiss, got a wink back.

“Oh just... fuck the both of you. I'm going to get a Red Bull. Anton? Red Bull?” Anton shook his head.

“I'll have one.” Mark declared. Kian scowled, heading for the kitchen.

“You can't have one. You're pissing me off.”

“Pissing who off?”

“Fuck off, Mark.” Kian disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Anton giggling. Mark gave the door the finger, laughing at Nicky's bemused smile.

“Working hard?”

“Always.” Mark grinned. “Just had my foot in a guy's arse.”

“I saw.” Nicky laughed. “We've got a couple guys coming down in half an hour for a line-up. Go get dressed up. You too, Anton. Kian.” He nodded to the blonde, who had just walked back into the room clutching a Red Bull. “You seen Jeremy?”

“Bathroom. I'll let him know.” Kian replied, tossing Mark a can. Mark caught it gratefully, giving Kian a thumbs up. “Don't bother though, lads, I got this one.”

“Do you now?” Mark stood up, flipping open the top on his can. “That's a bit rich.”

“Bet ya a tenner.”

“You old slags have your work cut out for ye.” Anton laughed, standing up. He did look good today, Mark could admit, in an almost see-through sleeveless shirt that showed off his arms. “Let the young'uns show you how it's done, yeah?”

Mark laughed, heading upstairs to change.

 

*

 

They all looked gorgeous. It was a little bit perverse, Nicky thought, lining up the entirety of his staff so he and Shane could ogle them. Not for the first time, Nicky was reminded that he definitely had one of the best jobs in the world. Top five at least.

Ollie had come down around the same time Noah had come in the front door, both nipping upstairs together so they could change in time, and the rush definitely hadn't hurt the way they were turned out. Jeremy was leaned against the wall in a skin-tight t-shirt, his arms bulging out of the sleeves, Anton standing next to him, laughing at some joke. Noah was playing up the cute surfer guy, with a loose beanie and low-cut boardshorts, his arms crossed over his tank top. Kian had been working out lately, which was pretty obvious in the half-undone button-up shirt he was barely wearing and skintight trousers that showed off his arse. He was sitting on the coffee table, one leg hitched up to the side, and Nicky could see... a lot. Shane kept staring, which was ridiculous, because it wasn't like either of them hadn't seen it a lot more clearly in the past. Ollie was wearing a mesh shirt. A little bit too crass for Nicky's taste, but that was Ollie's thing, the dance-club whore, with multi-coloured hair and a bar through his nipple.

Mark was... well Nicky was biased, obviously, but a tight white short-sleeved shirt, black waist-coat and pair of black jeans was definitely up there in the list of things Nicky would fuck him in. Of course, that list involved pretty much everything, but with two buttons undone revealing dark hair and pale skin, eyes bright and blue, his lips red and kissed, he looked thoroughly debauched.

“I would fuck every single one of you.” Shane said, sitting back to get a better look. “Good job.” Nicky nodded agreement, trying not to leer at Mark like a dirty old man.

“Ooh, that's a bit alright.” Annie's head was poking around the door. “Guys are here. Shall I send em in?”

They came in. Four guys, one with glitter in his hair and a big pink badge that said 'Bride'. Buck's party, if Nicky was any judge, and from the way one of them was swaying a little bit, they'd probably started early. He'd keep an eye on that one. The last thing he needed was some drunk arsehole getting too eager, hurting someone, and then throwing up on the premises. The boys could take care of themselves, but it had been known to happen, and it was always hard to shoehorn a guy out of the house when he was doubled over in the bathroom puking up two pints of vodka.

“I'll take him.” The guy on the end said straight away, pointing at Kian, who pushed himself up off the table, winking at Anton on the way past. There'd be hell to pay on that one. Nicky was pretty sure someone owed Kian a tenner. Shane took them both out to Annie to settle payment and terms.

The bride looked nervous while his friends slapped him on the back and laughed. He was hardly making eye-contact with any of the guys.

“Come on! It's your last one before you get tied down.” The drunk friend nudged him. “Pick two! I'm paying. Pick three!”

“Er... no, one's probably fine.” He mumbled, looking mortified. Nicky grinned, leaning over and grabbing his shoulder, pulling him aside.

“Lads, I'm gonna see if I can tempt the bride on something a bit extra.” He winked at the drunk friend, who laughed. He seemed harmless enough, just a bit unsteady. The other friend smiled in an abstract sort of way, eyeing up Jeremy out the corner of his eye. “Jimmy, is it? You want to come into the office? I have a few specials you might want to look at.” He turned to look back at the boys, minus Kian, whose footsteps were already thumping up the stairs. “These lads will take good care of your friends, won't they?” He got a melting pot of flirty looks in return, fluttering eyelashes and a little bit of a flex from Jeremy, who could obviously tell he was being checked out.

He shut the door behind them.

“Let me guess. Friends want you to have one last fling?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Jimmy was blushing now. He was a cute guy, maybe thirty, with dark brown, almost black hair that was receding slightly. He looked like the kind of guy who sat behind a desk all day. “I dunno. I thought they were just gonna get me a stripper, but then they sort of surprised me.” He sighed. “Is it rude if I say I don't really want to sleep with any of them? I mean, yeah, they're cute and stuff, but...”

“You're getting married?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip.

“When?”

“Next Thursday.”

“Congratulations!” Nicky clapped him on the back, shook his hand. “You want a coffee or anything?” Jimmy shook his head. “What's his name? Good bloke?”

“Vic. And yeah.”

“Good for you.” Nicky grinned, getting an idea together. “Can I suggest something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Your mate paying?”

“Yeah.”  
  
“I'm going to send you up with one of the guys. I'll give you the base hourly rate, maybe toss in a couple things extra. Something kinky, maybe, up to you. Just something to appear on the bill. Then you can hang out upstairs for a bit, do whatever. I'll give you an en suite if you want to take a shower or something. Shit, take up a deck of cards if you want – Anton will kick your arse at blackjack. Then when your friends are done, do some pushups or something so you look sweaty and come back down.”

“Erm...”

“Just an idea.” Nicky tried to stop himself from laughing. The look on Jimmy's face was priceless. “If you want to fuck one of them, though, I do recommend it. They're all very good. If there's something special you like, I can even tell you which one to pick.”

“I uh...” Jimmy swallowed. “Yeah, okay. Shit, this is really surreal. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you looked like you were about to shit yourself.” Nicky laughed. “And...” He pushed open the door slightly to look at the boys. The drunk friend was cozying up to Ollie and Noah. The other one was chatting to Mark, who was playing with the front of the client's shirt, looking up from under thick eyelashes and pouting. “...see the one with your tall friend? White shirt, black vest?” He closed the door again when Jimmy nodded. “I've been chickening out on asking him to marry me for the last year.”

“He's your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, three years.” He couldn't believe he was saying this to some guy he didn't know. He hadn't even said it to Shane. “So I get ya. When there's no-one else worth looking at. Anyway...” He put his hand out to rest on Jimmy's shoulder. “...your mate's paying, so it's not like I'm out anything. Pick something really expensive and fucked up, if you like. Serve him right for thinking you want to shag a stranger when you've got a bloke at home. And before you say it, yes, my bloke shags strangers all the time. It's a whole separate can of worms. Do you want to shag a stranger?”

“No.”

“Cool. Pick one, and you can go hang out with a really nice guy for an hour.”

“Which would you choose?”  
  
“Sort of self-explanatory.” Nicky opened the door, knowing a deal had been struck. “But it's your hour.”

 

*

 

Jimmy was already upstairs in one of the bedrooms, waiting. One of his mates, the one that had looked a bit drunk, had taken both Anton and Noah upstairs, and was probably getting very well-fucked as they spoke. The guys wouldn't mind, they had both done doubles before, and Anton particularly had looked very pleased with his lot. The others were off fucking Kian and Jeremy. Ollie was sulking in the living room, but Annie was getting him a cup of tea. He was around so rarely that he didn't really have much of a line-up of regulars, so walk-ins were his main income. Mark could sympathise. Still, he was a cute guy, and had only just come off a job, so it wasn't like he was getting neglected. Shane was already in the office, keeping an eye on all of them.

Mark would be lying if he said he hadn't been a bit daunted, looking at the piece of paper coming out of the printer, but Nicky had explained the deal he'd made. He had to admit he was a bit relieved. He was happy to do everything on the list individually, but all of them in one hour would have been a bit much. He didn't think you could even combine some of the things on the list without getting seriously mixed up and falling over yourself.

Jimmy was sitting on the bed when Mark walked in, smiling nervously. Mark went to the fridge, grabbing himself a bottle of water and tossing Jimmy one too. He twisted it open, took a long swallow. They made polite conversation for a bit. Mark asked how his hen day was going, Jimmy mumbled something about going to the pub next. They talked a bit about the wedding plans. It sounded nice, up in the country with lots of family and friends. The drunk guy was his best man. Mark wasn't sure he'd call him that, not with the way he'd been flopping all over Noah, but apparently he was paying for Mark to sit on his arse for an hour, so that was fine by him.

It had been a good day so far, he reflected. Everybody was in a good mood, his regulars all seemed happy so far. Even Nicky seemed reasonably calm, for Nicky. He hadn't gotten to come yet, but didn't really mind. He only had another two hours on the clock anyway, so maybe he'd have some energy leftover to take home to Nicky. They'd been fairly sexually distant the last few days, but Mark felt better and he quite wanted to do something about it. He'd seen the way Nicky kept flirting with him, too. It was nice, something that casual and intimate, helped to assuage how unsettled he'd felt the past few days.

“So the boss is your boyfriend?”

“He tell you that?” Mark smiled. He wasn't sure what Nicky had been talking about while they were in the other room, just that Jimmy didn't want to cheat on his boyfriend and Nicky had sorted it out. Jimmy nodded, flicking through a magazine Mark had scrounged from one of he cupboards. It was just some crappy tabloid thing from two years ago that had somehow wound up behind the bucket of vibrators. Probably Rowen's – he liked to sneak up to one of the rooms during his lunch break and chill out sometimes, just to give himself a moment of peace. Technically he probably shouldn't be doing it, but they all knew about it and there was no harm, so long as he left the room neat and tidy.

“He seemed nice.”  
  
“He's pretty cool.” Mark agreed. “I think I'll keep him.”

“You ever think about getting married?”

“Not really.” Mark said honestly. “I'm not opposed to it. Like, good on you for doing it if you want. I just hadn't really thought about it.” He hadn't. Not until Kian had started rabbiting on about it for some reason. He still wasn't, either, though he'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered what it would be like, even for a fleeting moment. Pretty much the same as it was now, he supposed, but with a big expensive party and a bit of extra jewellery. He didn't even know who he'd make best man. One of his brothers, maybe. Nicky would probably have his own brother or Shane. Nicky's mam would probably cry. And they'd go home, shag a bunch, and get back to their lives.

“You should.”

“You haven't even done it yet.” Mark reasoned. “Give it six months.”

“I've given it ten years. Don't see six months'll make much of a difference.”

“Ten _years_?” Mark exclaimed. “Jesus, good work!”

“It wasn't really work.” Jimmy shrugged. “That's why my mates wanted to come out here, I think. I mean, I haven't looked at another bloke since I was twenty-three. Maybe they thought it was my last chance. I don't really need one. When you know, you know.”

“Tell me about it.” Mark sighed, putting his hands behind his head and laying back, looking up at the ceiling. There was a slight crack there, he'd noticed it before when he'd been on his back in this room a few weeks ago. He followed with his eyes to the corner of the room, smiling slightly when he caught the mirror hiding the security camera. “I don't even know how not to be in love with that eejit.”

“Exactly.” Jimmy nodded. “I think I'd be happy sitting on the couch watching TV for the rest of my life he was next to me.”

“I know what you mean.” Mark replied. He could hear footsteps going down the stairs. Kian, by the sound of it. He'd gone up first for a forty-five minute session, so that would be about right. He and Jimmy still had ten minutes to go. “Your mate's out, the tall one. Want to bounce on the bed so it sounds like we're fucking? I'll make noises.”

“Yeah, alright.” They both climbed up on their knees, starting to bounce. Mark chucked in a couple of believably loud moans for good measure. “This is weird.”

“Why are you... pretending anyway?” Mark forced out in between bounces, laughing when Jimmy climbed up on his feet and started to jump lightly, slapping his hand on the wall. “Why not just... tell them to... fuck off?”

“I'll tell them... the truth... eventually.” Jimmy laughed. “Might as well... get them... to pay for it... first...” He bounced back onto his arse, wincing when the springs squeaked. “Serves them right for making me do this.” Mark laughed, standing up and going to the door, making some noises through the crack just to make sure they could hear. Jimmy's hair was flopping in his face from jumping, and he had a bit of sweat on his forehead. Mark went over to run hands through his hair, messing it up and then doing the same to his own.

“How hard do you want me to come?” He whispered. There were more feet in the hall now. He could hear Anton's voice, then Noah's, Jimmy's friend saying something in an out-of-breath slur. “I can make you sound really impressive if you like.”

“Oh, go on then.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. Mark grinned, rubbing his arm over his lips so he'd look kissed. He slapped a little bit of colour into Jimmy's cheeks, chuckling when the client blinked in surprise. “Wait...” They heard a door open further down the hall. That was all three of them done. “Okay, now.”

“Ready?” Mark laughed, going over to the door. “Bounce. You're going to fuck my brains out.”

 

*

 

“Ah... ahhh.... fu.... harder.... Jesus... fuck me... fuck me... don't stop... oh god I'm... ah... uh...”

Nicky muffled a laugh. He'd been glancing at the camera from time to time, had watched Mark and his client sit on the bed, having a chat, then bounce like idiots while the bed thumped on the ceiling. Jimmy's friends were looking up at the ceiling now, as Mark reached a very vocal, profanity-laced orgasm above them.

“Yes... yes! Ah...”

He heard Shane snort, try to cover his laughter. The rest of the lads were doing the same. They'd all heard Mark come, and this was beyond ridiculous, but Jimmy's friends looked dumbstruck, shocked at their friend's apparent sexual prowess, making a prostitute come like an extremely noisy freight train. The bed-springs were squeaking badly. Nicky was almost worried they'd come through the ceiling.

“Oh god, yes!” And then a cripplingly tortured groan. Nicky had to turn away to hide his laughter. Shane went back into the office with his face buried in his hands, having long-since lost the ability to pretend he was just yawning.

They came back down a minute later, Mark looking appropriately dazed, both of them flushed and sweaty. Jimmy's friends gave him high-fives, congratulating him, as though Mark wasn't standing right there. Annie signed them out and they left, Jimmy giving them a quick wave on the way out as thanks.

When Mark walked back into the living room there was a thunderous round of applause, Ollie and Jeremy giving a standing ovation. Mark bowed, blushing slightly. Evan clapped him on the back. He'd caught the tail end of the performance, had been hanging out with Ollie listening to the theatrics while the other boys finished up with their clients. Shane came back out, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Things settled down after that. Evan went up for his first job, Blarney and Rowen came in. They were both disappointed that they'd missed the performance, but the other lads were more than happy to fill them in, with more than one recreation occurring while Mark smiled indulgently. Ollie and Anton went home. Liam came in. It was all clockwork. Mark knocked off, but hung around anyway for Nicky to finish up. Nicky was honestly glad, even if it meant Mark sitting around doing nothing. He didn't really want Mark out of his sight, especially not where that crazy bitch could find them.

Mark was sitting in Shane's chair around six o'clock, a coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Annie had gone home, so Shane was manning reception. Nicky had the screen on, was flicking between Liam, Blarney, Jeremy, Noah and Evan's rooms. He could hear Kian in the main room, playing his guitar while Rowen sang along, slightly offkey.

The phone rang. Nicky picked it up, glancing at the caller ID. It was the internal line, coming from the reception desk.

“Hey Shane.”

“Hey.” There was a short pause. “Hey, can you check the outside camera? I thought I heard something.”

Nicky flicked over, squinting at the feed. It was dark, he couldn't see much of anything except the lit front step and a bit of the railing. He leaned forward to get a better look, thought he saw something shifting in the dark.

“Can't see anything.” He replied. “There's something there, but I think it's just a dog or... oh wait.” No, that was definitely a person. He gestured to Mark, beckoning him over. His boyfriend came to stand behind him. “You see that?”

Mark bent over, grimacing in concentration.

“What's that?”

“Don't know. Shane, can you still hear it?”

“No, I think it's stopped.” Shane replied. “What do you see?”

“I don't know. It looks like...” White flared up in front of the camera suddenly, blanking out the screen. He heard Shane swear, drop the phone.

“Kian!”

Nicky ran out, heart in his throat, Mark right behind him. He heard a rush of air, the fire-extinguisher emptying out, and by the time he made it out to the door it was pretty much over, Shane stamping on the last of the embers, Kian holding the extinguisher loose in one hand while Rowen hid behind him.

The outside of the door was black up to the doorknob. Shane kicked at a wet bundle on the floor. Nicky couldn't tell exactly what it was straight away, and then realised it had been a shoebox at one point. When Shane kicked it again, Nicky saw burnt matches and shredded paper spill out. It smelled of sulfur and petrol.

“Fuck is that?” Mark asked. “It stinks.” He reached out, leaving a streak of fingerprints in the soot on the back of the door. Kian dropped the heavy extinguisher, making them all jump. Rowen squealed, then covered his mouth, blushing. Shane put an arm around Kian's shoulder. The blonde was shaking.

Nicky went to call the police.

 

*

 

Mark lay awake on Kian's bed, staring at the ceiling. Nicky was next to him, doing the same. He couldn't remember the last time one of them had said something.

The police came, took photos, took the shoebox away. They hesitated to call it a bomb. Mark got sick of hearing the phrase 'incendiary device'. Shane sent the boys home, paid them out for the rest of the night. There was no point. One day back and shit was already happening. It was getting worse. A rock was one thing, but the whole place could have gone up if Shane hadn't been so close to the door. It made Mark shudder, thinking about what could have happened. About how people could have been hurt, or killed.

Because of him.

They checked the footage. It was the same girl again, sunglasses gone this time but hair still over her face.

“I'm not going back.” Mark said finally. Nicky turned to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” He took a deep breath. “I mean there's no point. Somebody's going to get hurt, and we can't keep closing the place down because someone's after me.” He swallowed, rolling onto his side to take Nicky's hand. “Until this blows over, I'm staying here.” He saw Nicky's mouth open, knew it would be an argument, and cut him off. “No. It's fucking up everyone's lives and I'm the only common thread in all this. I just need to step back.”

“I'll stay here then.” Nicky leaned in, pressing his forehead to Mark's. “We'll hide out. We can fuck in Kian's bed.”

“No, you need to go to work.” Mark kissed him gently, smothering the dispute before Nicky could get it out. “You can't leave Shane there to do it all by himself.”

“I don't give a shit about Shane.”

“Yeah, right.” Mark caught Nicky's other hand, squeezed them both between their chests. “You've got a business to run. It's your life. It's your... your livelihood. Dream. Thing. Don't let it collapse. This'll get sorted. I'll be right here.”

“I'm not leaving you by yourself.”

Mark kissed Nicky's fingers. He was resolved. He'd been thinking about it all night, since the clang of the fire-extinguisher hitting the floor. Kian's trembling hands, Shane's look of shock. It was all too much. It was awful enough knowing someone was out for him, but collateral damage was completely out of the question. It was hard enough having Nicky so close, knowing he could get hurt. Leaving Nicky was unimaginable, though. For one thing, Nicky would never let him go. If this mental was able to find him, Nicky would be way ahead of her. He'd track Mark to the ends of the earth if he had to. It would almost be creepy if Mark didn't love him so much.

“You're not leaving me. I'll be right here, and you'll be back. She's not getting into the building, she doesn't even know we're here. I'll lock all the doors, bar all the windows, put the police on speed-dial, and sit here watching TV in my underwear until you come home.”

“I really don't want to.”

“You don't have a choice.” Mark replied “Do you trust me?”

“That's not what this is about.”

“Do you trust that I'll kick your arse out the door if you try to stay?” Mark rubbed their noses together, trying to keep this playful and light, despite the snakes twisting in his belly. This really was better for both of them, and if Nicky thought he was at all unsure, he'd cuff himself to Mark's leg and swallow the key. “I'll be fine.”

“I'm going to call you every ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Mark agreed. “And I'll send you naked pictures every five.”

That at least got a smile. Mark reached down, putting his hand on Nicky's bum, pulling him close. “It's Kian's day off tomorrow, anyway. Maybe he'll come over if he's not getting shagged. I'll be fine. Yeah?”

Nicky sighed and shook his head. Mark kissed the eyelids that fell closed, tension crinkling at the corners.

“I'll give you a sneak preview if you like.”

“No.” Nicky murmured, wrapping a leg around Mark's, his hand caressing Mark's cheek. Mark leant into it, rubbing his cheek against Nicky's fingers, kissing the tips. “Just stay here with me a bit.”

Mark nodded, settling in and closing his eyes.


	7. Sunday

There was bloody nothing on TV. Yeah, there was the same crap American slap-fests, but without Kian here to make fun of them, there wasn't much point. With Kian, it was an event. They picked sides, made a day of it. By himself, they were just sad losers with too few teeth complaining about their cheating boyfriends.

Mark sat back on the couch, staring at his toes. The nailpolish was getting more chipped, so he scratched at the big toe, etching all of the blue chips off with the corner of his finger-nail. He got half-way through and then lost interest. He collapsed back, staring at the ceiling.

Nicky had been out for a total of two hours. It felt like days.

He thought about going to make a sandwich, decided he couldn't be bothered. There was nothing in the fridge anyway. Kian was never here, so he hadn't really done groceries, and he and Nicky were always at work so they hadn't stocked the fridge either. He'd eaten a pot noodle he'd found in the back of a cupboard, but he didn't really trust the expiration date. The rehydrated peas had looked dodgy as hell.

He kicked at the end of the couch, thought about scraping the nailpolish off the rest of his toes, then ended up just turning on his front and burying his face in the couch cushion.

He'd used to like his own company. It came from living full-time at Bryan's place, never getting a moment to himself and relishing the times he had a bit of peace and quiet. But being without Nicky was weird. They spent every day together, always had the same days off. He supposed it would be alright if he could go out and do something, maybe go shopping or see friends or something, but he was trapped in here at the mercy of a crazy bitch who couldn't seem to leave him alone.

Officer Andy had called him that morning to check in with him. He hadn't been one of the police that had responded the night before, but had heard about it and wanted to see if there was anything more he needed to know. There wasn't really. Same woman, nothing particular to identify her. It had been too dark to get a shot of the car they'd heard driving away, and Andy hadn't had any luck tracking her from the pub the other day. If anything, their best chance was to hope she tried something else again and slipped up. It was odd, hoping that something horrible would happen, but the alternative was nothing happening and being on tenterhooks not knowing what was going on. It was a hideous catch twenty-two. The incidents were getting worse, too. Graffiti and photos were one thing, but the fire last night had frightened Mark badly. He didn't want to think about what was coming next.

His phone rang. Nicky, obviously. There was no-one else it could be.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” That hoarse voice was the best sound. “Where's my dirty picture?”

Mark snorted. Trust Nicky. “Can't take one if I'm on the phone, can I?”

“You should have taken one already. Promises were made.”

“I'm sorry. How's your day?”

“Okay. Everyone's missing you.”

“By everyone, do you mean you?” Mark leaned back, making himself comfortable on the couch. He could just about imagine Nicky, leaning back in his swivel chair, feet on the seat, knees bunched up in front of him.

“I mean everyone.” Nicky replied. “But especially me.”

“Don't you have work to do?”

“I'm doing it. Watching Rowen.”

“Bondage?”

“More or less. He's got this guy hog-tied, keeps smacking him with a belt.”

“Fun. You can do that to me when you get home.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. Mark smirked. He was stuck at home, he had to make his own fun somehow. They chatted for a bit until Nicky was called away. Mark heard Blarney's voice in the background. There were some hurried 'I love you's and Nicky hung up. Mark went back to watching TV. There were way too many morning shows so he found some old Tom & Jerry cartoons and stared at them blankly, trying to pass the time.

 

*

“Hey gorgeous.”

It was the third time he'd called Mark that day, and Nicky knew he should probably feel a bit like a stalker, but the appreciative chuckle he got in return, Mark's voice all chocolate and sweetness, made his heart swell.

“Sorry, wrong number.”

“I doubt it.” Nicky laughed, listening to Mark on the other end, his voice strangely muffled. “What you doing?”

“Eating lunch.”

“What you having?”

“Toast. Bring home groceries, yeah? Kian seriously has no food. I'll starve to death.”

“We can't have that.” Nicky grinned, spinning in his chair. He could hear Rowen and Ollie laughing in the other room. Anton and Blarney were upstairs with clients. It had been a slow morning. Not necessarily a bad thing as Shane was helping his cousin, leaving Nicky alone to mind the shop.

He'd tried, really he had, to focus and not call Mark every four seconds, but it was nearly impossible. Every time he hung up he could feel Mark's conspicuous lack of presence. He'd never realised how used he was to Mark just being there, hearing him laugh, the comforting push of Mark's breath against him when he got random hugs through the day, the unique thud of his footsteps going up and down the stairs.

Maybe he was codependent, but Nicky didn't think that was all it was. Mark made him feel better. Not just feel better, Mark made _him_ better, made him into the kind of person who wasn't tired and sad and helpless all the time. He'd pulled Nicky out of a deep, miserable funk three years ago, swanning into his life to fuck strangers for money, then getting under his skin. Nicky liked who he was with Mark, much better than he'd liked himself then. But Mark had liked him then, and that made Nicky love him even more.

“Nicky?”

“Sorry, just thinking.” He realised he'd drifted into silence without noticing it, Mark's breath against his ear too familiar and comforting. “I love you.”

“I'm glad.” Mark purred. “Because then I'd be the only one.”

“Who loves you?”

“Yeah, why not.” Mark chuckled again, that quiet rumble that made Nicky go weak at the knees. “Seriously, bring home groceries. Or takeaway, or something. I could murder a Pad Thai.”

“I'll see what I can do.” Nicky promised. “I won't be home until around eleven, though. You be okay until then?”

“I'll manage.” Mark sighed dramatically. “Don't you have work to do?”

Nicky did. He said goodbye, as difficult as it was, and hung up. Then he went to go check on his boys.

 

*

 

“It's me!”

Mark was glad Kian had called out. He was just trying to figure out how to best ascertain who the knock at the door had belonged to without getting himself axe-murdered in the process. Kian didn't have a peep-hole, which was seriously irritating. Not that Mark was being paranoid or anything, but it wasn't really paranoia if there really was someone out to get you.

“Who's me?” Mark called out, smirking when he just about heard Kian roll his eyes on the other side of the door.

“Seriously?” Kian called back.

“Sorry, we don't want any.”

“I fucking live here, dickhead.”

“So open the door with your own keys.”

“They're in the car. Come on, I've got food.”

That was fair enough. Mark pulled open the door, grinning when Kian gave him a playful scowl and pushed past, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. He dumped it on the kitchen counter, and Mark began to rifle through it, closing his hand around a chocolate bar. Kian was already moving back toward the door.

“Leave that for a minute and come help me.”

“With what?” Mark followed, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite on the way down the stairs. Now that was the stuff. Not that plain toast and black coffee wasn't a delicacy all it's own, but Mark was dying for some real food.

“Here.” Kian shoved a sports bag into his hands, and Mark took it, holding the chocolate between his teeth. “Clothes.”

“Oh, cheers.” Mark hefted it over his shoulder, reaching out to take the bulging backpack Kian handed him, then another sports bag and a cardboard box full of paper, something to do with work, probably. “You go round ours, then?”

“No, just magicked them into the car.” Kian slammed the boot closed, removed the keys from the door. “Nicky gave me a list. He's been wearing the same jeans for like three days. And I'm pretty sure those pyjamas are starting to get a bit ripe.” He looked meaningfully at Mark, who glanced down at himself and shrugged. It wasn't like he was going out. “Got some shoes and stuff as well, and a couple of DVDs. Nicky said you might be bored.”

“He'd be right. How was our place?”

“Quiet.” Kian shrugged, opening the front door and ushering Mark inside to follow him up the stairs. “Didn't notice anything funny, but then I didn't before shit hit the fan last time, so what do I know?” He let them back in. Mark went back over to the grocery bag, pulling out a banana. He tossed one to Kian, who began to peel it. “You shagged in my bed yet?”

“You keep asking. It's like you want us to.” Mark joked. “And... no. We haven't really done anything since this kicked off. It's just...” He sighed, sinking back onto the couch. He was pretty sure he was wearing a groove into it by now. “...I dunno. I'm stressed, he's freaking out. There really hasn't been a moment that screams romance.”

“I didn't say romance.”

“Yeah, but I can fuck any time I want. What's the point? I like romancing him, anyway. He always gets really embarrassed and grateful. It's adorable.”

“I'm sure it is.” Kian raised an eyebrow. “You two are genuinely sickening, you know that?”

“I'm aware.” Mark took a bite of his banana, reached over to turn the TV up. “If you're staying for a bit, Dr Phil's about to start. He's doing a special on pageant mums.”

“That sounds amazing.” Kian agreed. They settled in comfortably, and Mark felt himself relax for the first time in days, enjoying his friend's presence. It was odd, thinking back, how much they'd hated each other at the start. Kian had behaved like a petulant bitch, and Mark had thought he was a right prick. Now, though, he knew it was all exterior. Kian was guarded, got on the back-foot without meaning to, but Mark had come to realise over the years that it was protection, that Kian was driven and maybe a bit jealous, but not a bad guy. And slowly they'd become friends.

Mark did sometimes wonder if Kian still had feelings for Nicky, but it was a moot point. Kian was with Jake, and Nicky had chosen Mark.

Mark began to idly dig through the bag of clothes, pulling out a clean t-shirt and stripping off his dirty one to pull it on, finding a clean pair of shorts a moment later. Kian was making disapproving noises at some tarted-up slag and a three-year old with whitened teeth and hair extensions. Mark reached back into the bag, closing his hands around some balled up socks. He pushed them aside, trying to see underneath, but felt something dig into his hand. Something hard and square.

He pulled them out, squeezed the ball in his hand. Kian glanced over.

“Oh yeah, Nicky said to bring those. He was really adamant. Said something about lucky socks, I don't know.” Kian shrugged. “They look like shitty old socks to me. What you doing?” The last was said while Mark unrolled the bundle, curious.

A box sat in his hand. Kian stared. Mark said “erm”, softly, not sure what else to say. Kian kept staring.

“Well fucking open it.” He urged. Mark bit his lip, not sure he wanted to. Kian went to reach out, to do it for him, but he pulled it away, closing his hands around it, cradling it to his chest. “Come on.”

“Yeah.” Mark closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath to calm himself. Then he held the box out in front of him and used his thumbs to lever the top off. Two gold rings stared back at him, the bands etched in celtic knots, each inlaid with a small, heart-shaped cluster of diamonds. Mark swallowed. He heard Kian swear.

“Fuck me.”

Mark nodded in response. He couldn't speak. His tongue was stapled to the roof of his mouth.

“Did you know?”

Mark shook his head.

“Shit.” Kian breathed in, then reached out to mute the television, Dr Phil a distant memory. “That's what I think it is, isn't it?”

“I don't...” Mark ran a hand over his face, through his hair. Tried to make sure he was actually awake and not having some sort of hallucination brought on by out-of-date pot noodles. “Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.” It turned into a soft litany. He couldn't say anything else. Kian was staring at him, and Mark let the box be taken from his slack hands. Kian appraised it quietly, then handed it back.

“Are you going to say yes?”

A hysterical giggle bubbled up from Mark's throat. He couldn't breathe, all of a sudden. It was too much.

“He hasn't asked me yet.”

Kian shrugged. “I thought you were the one who did romance.”  
  
“I am. I...” Mark stood up, needing to move. Excess energy was flooding into him all of a sudden. He didn't know if he was elated or just flat-out shocked. He hadn't expected this, not for a moment. Hadn't even really thought about it, not even with Kian's questions earlier in the week. He loved Nicky. With his whole heart. Nicky made him... better. Made everything feel small in comparison.

But this was something... else.

“Put it on!”

“No...” Mark looked back at the ring, letting his eyes linger over it. He knew he should close the box, but he couldn't look away. At the tiny diamonds, the shine of the linking lines tripping over the band. It was beautiful. It was everything he'd never realised he'd wanted. Kian was gesturing encouragingly and he smiled bashfully, feeling it stretch his face, feeling himself be genuinely happy for the first time all week. “Just for a second.”

“Go on!”

He lifted the larger of the two out of the box. It was so light, delicate in his hands. He saw the light catch something on the inside, the trace of words, and held a hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying. Two words, nothing all that ostentatious, but it made Mark want to leap over the couch and go running the four miles so he could slam open the office door and hug Nicky so hard they'd become one person.

_Thank you_

“What?”

Mark realised his eyes were full of tears. He shook his head, not wanting Kian to see, wanting to hold this to his heart forever and pull it out when he was alone and miserable. Something that was only his.

“Nothing, just...” He slid it on. It fit perfectly. He stared at it for a moment, seeing in his mind's eye the script etched onto the inside, feeling it burn against his hand. Then, gently, he slid it back off, replaced it in the box and closed it. He wrapped the socks back around it. Squeezed it, felt the corners bite his palm. “Don't tell him we saw it, yeah?”

“No, of course not.” Kian sat back, staring blankly at the muted telly while Mark replaced the socks in the bag. He felt bereft already. “Well... today just got more interesting.”

Mark sat back down. Then they turned the TV back up in time to watch Dr Phil yell at some dozy cow for buying her daughter a stripper pole.

 

*

 

“Hey babe.”

There was a momentary silence. Nicky probably wouldn't have noticed it if he wasn't being obsessive, but he was, and he did.

“Hey.” Mark replied, his voice soft. It was pushing three in the afternoon, and he'd managed to hold off from calling Mark for a whole four hours. It had been torture.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” He heard Mark swallow, then giggle. “Sorry, Kian's here, he's distracting me. We're watching telly.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt.”  
  
“Don't be. I missed you.” He heard Mark breath in, then out. “I love you, you know.”

“I know. You sure you're okay?” Mark was being weird and quiet. He could hear the TV in the background, could hear Kian saying something he couldn't quite make out.

“I'm fine.” He heard the smile in Mark's voice and let himself relax. He hadn't realised his heart was racing, but it was already slowing, his boyfriend's voice innately reassuring. “Just chilling out. I ate a banana and a chocolate bar.”

“You tell the best stories.” Nicky teased. He heard Mark laugh on the other end.

“What else am I supposed to tell you? This isn't exactly stimulating. Tell me about your day. Much business?”

“Not huge.” Nicky admitted. “Nate popped in to see if you could fit in a session. I offered him one of the other boys, but he said he'd wait until you were back. I told him you were on holidays.”

“I'm sorry...”

“Don't be.” Nicky replied firmly. “Seriously, take it as a compliment. When it comes to putting a plug in his arse and sitting on his cock, you're the only one he wants.

“I'm flattered.” He heard Mark snort. It sounded like that momentary uneasiness Nicky had detected at the beginning was gone, and he was glad.

They fell into easy conversation. It was always easy with Mark. He told Mark about one of Rowen's clients, who was upstairs now, having his his balls spanked with a paddle, about a strop Jeremy had thrown because Anton had eaten the last of the chocolate biscuits. About Ollie's new lip piercing. About Liam rabbiting on about this new juice he'd found that was apparently some miracle detox. Nicky had tried some at his insistence. It had tasted like a dead sheep had thrown up in an old boot. He'd had a bacon sandwich afterward to even things out.

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, halfway into a story about a broken vibrator. Annie was stood at the door, trying to get his attention.

“Just a second.” He said to Mark, who made a casual hum of encouragement. “Sorry Annie, what's up?”

“Got a guy in, asking about Mark. What you want me to say?”

“He's on holidays.”

“I said that. He's pretty insistent.” Annie bit her lip. “You want to come out and talk to him?”

“Sure.” Nicky sighed, turning back to the phone. “Can I call you back?”

“You will anyway.”

“I know. Just asking.”

“You don't need to ask.” He heard Mark hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“No, nothing.” Mark's voice sounded too bright, too cheerful. “Just, you said you were asking. So... yes.”

“You're really, really odd.” Nicky said, hoping Mark could somehow sense how fond of the younger boy he was feeling. “But I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mark didn't hang up, so Nicky had to. It was really hard to do. He just about had to use both hands to end the call. When he looked up, Annie was giving him an awkward, expectant smile.

The guy at the desk was older, maybe pushing forty, with a small scar under one eye and sandy blonde hair. Nicky didn't think he'd seen him before, he didn't think it was one of Mark's regulars, which made it a bit weird that he was asking about him, but maybe it was a reference, or they'd had a one-off a while back and he was looking for a repeat performance. He looked fidgety, which was nothing new. Nicky smiled sunnily, reaching out to shake the guy's hand. It was ignored.

“Mark here?”

“No, sorry.” Nicky pulled his hand back. “He's on holidays.”

“Oh.” The guy's eyebrow's knitted. “Where is he?” Not 'when will he be back?', but 'where is he?'. Nicky narrowed his eyes, feeling uneasy.

“Who's asking?”

“Nobody.” The guy huffed, looking put out. “I'll see you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Nicky said helplessly, watching the guy head back to the door. It was slammed behind him. Nicky turned to look at Annie, who shrugged, her cheeks slightly flushed with unease. She bit her lip. “What was that about?”

“Don't know.” She shrugged again. “He said basically the same thing to me. I asked if he wanted to make an appointment, but he didn't even seem to want that. I thought maybe it was a personal call... like it might have been a friend or something, but he wasn't all that friendly.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and bit her lip again. “Do you think it had something to do with...?”

“I don't know.” Nicky admitted. His heart was racing again. It was doing that a lot lately. He felt suddenly strangled. He went back into the office, Annie following him, and switched on the camera feed. The guy was gone, but when he rewound a little bit he could see the guy storming down the driveway, slamming his car door and peeling away. Nicky paused it and quickly jotted down the license plate number. He thought about calling Mark, but didn't want to panic him, so he called Officer Andy first, praying it was nothing to worry about. That he was just over-stressed and reading too much into things.

Annie left the room while he was on hold and came back with a cup of coffee. He sipped it gratefully, knowing this wasn't exactly going to calm him down and not caring. He felt painfully alert, needed to feel even more awake if he was going to protect Mark. When Andy finally picked up, Nicky was just about leaping out of his seat.

He explained the situation quickly, gave him the license plate number. Andy hmmed for a minute, and Nicky could hear typing in the background. The officer said he couldn't give out personal information, but he didn't recognise the name and could Nicky please email him a picture of the guy? He promised to cross-check it, run some sort of background check, and call back if there was anything important.

Nicky hung up and sat back in his chair, feeling even more helpless than ever.

He found a good screen-shot and emailed the picture.

And then nothing much happened.

It was torture.

 

*

 

The flat was dark when Nicky stepped back in. For a moment he panicked, before realising that was stupid, that Mark was probably just in bed. He tossed the Pad Thai into the fridge and went to investigate.

Mark was in bed, but he wasn't asleep, was sat up reading a book by the light of the bedside lamp. He looked up when Nicky came in, smiling in a way that was so welcoming Nicky wanted to cry.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Nicky breathed, letting himself be pulled into a hug. He pulled away for a second to shrug off his jacket, then snuggled in again, feeling strong arms wrap around him. A kiss was pressed to his hair. “I missed you like crazy.”  
  
“I couldn't tell.” Mark teased, his fingers playing at the hem of Nicky's shirt. “Get this off and get into bed.” Nicky shivered, hearing the promise in his words. He hadn't realised he wanted it, just knew he wanted Mark close, to see that he was alright.

“I brought home dinner.” Nicky said stupidly, unbuckling his jeans. Mark's eyes were devouring him. It was painfully distracting.

“Thanks. Come here.”

Nicky climbed in, kicking off his jeans while he went, then he was draped across Mark, his head rested in his boyfriend's chest, feeling hands begin to trace his spine, the familiar hardness pressed into his stomach.

“I love you so much.” Mark whispered. Nicky closed his eyes, relaxing into his touch. His face was pulled up, and their lips met gently, Mark tasting his mouth with slow, careful strokes. Nicky moaned, threading fingers through his lover's hair, pulling them closer together. “I want to feel you.”

“God, yes.” Nicky breathed in reply, feeling thick fingers stroke his back, slide over his hip, touching him everywhere. It felt like he was being mapped out. Fingertips traced his ribs, making him flinch at the tickle. Mark smirked, grabbing his arse, pulling him closer. “Not in Kian's bed. We promised.”  
  
“I don't care.” Mark bit his chin, one hand reaching down to mould to the back of Nicky's thigh, the other splaying out over his shoulder-blades. Nicky whimpered, pushing into everything at once. “I just want you. For the rest of my life, I never want anyone else.” He sounded almost shy. Nicky whimpered when kisses dotted down his throat, slid into the hollow of his throat, down his collarbone. A hand slipped in between them, pressing to his heart. “Never anyone else.”

“There never will be, not for me.” Nicky managed, overwhelmed. Mark let out a pleased purr, his mouth suckling at Nicky's shoulder. Nicky felt the nip of teeth, the sudden suction, and knew he'd been marked. More than anything that made him push down, his hips suddenly not his own. “Oh god, Mark.” He murmured, not knowing how to put into words how he felt.

Mark rolled them over, blanketing Nicky, his body everywhere at once, hands stroking his skin, down to run over his cock, caress his balls, up the inside of his thighs, tickling his stomach and groin, squeezing on his waist. Exploring, possessing. Nicky cried out when a thumb pressed into his navel, teasing, the other running across his lip while Mark nuzzled his chest, biting gently at his nipple. There was that bite again, that suck, and when Nicky looked down, there was a purple mark rising on his chest, right over his heart. Another one on his stomach. Mark groaned, pushing himself against Nicky's thigh.

“You're so beautiful.” Nicky arched in response to the soft compliment. He wanted to grab something, touch something, take control somehow. Couldn't, not while Mark was exploring him so methodically, pressing kisses and bites to his hips. Another love bite was lavished upon his thigh, Mark murmuring approvingly while he soothed it with his tongue. Nicky tangled fingers in brown hair, feeling it slide for a moment before he got a grip. Mark growled, nibbling up his side, teeth grazing his ribs.

It felt ages, Nicky didn't know how long, before a finger finally pushed into him, going unerringly for his prostate. Mark was licking at his throat, his other hand tucked behind Nicky's head, holding him still. Nicky pushed back on the fingers, the sensation delicious. His whole body felt damp, covered in the remains of Mark's kisses, and when he looked down he could see glimpses of the marks his lover had left, feel the delicate sting of love bites on his wrists, hips, throat, stomach. On his collarbones. On his back, when Mark had turned him over and run a tongue down his spine, nibbling at his arse, licking at the small of his back, and leaving purple, bruising bites on his shoulder blades.

“I love you.” He managed. It felt redundant. Mark knew. Mark looked up anyway, his eyes bright, pupils dilated. Nicky swallowed, seeing the fire that flared there when their gazes locked.

“I love you.” Mark echoed, kissing him, his fingers pushing deeper. Nicky whimpered, spitting himself on them. Thick, talented fingers that crooked while Mark ground them together, his erection pushing into Nicky's. He moaned into Nicky's ear, his cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. “God, you turn me on. I missed you so badly.”

“Fuck. Ditto.” Nicky choked out. “Want you so much.”

Mark hissed out something that was probably 'yes', but was muffled by Nicky kissing him, his hands grabbing Mark's bum while he arched up, bringing them into alignment. And then, oh, Mark was in, was crying out against Nicky's lips, his eyes squeezed shut while he slid forward, Nicky's heels on his back, pulling him in. No condom, Nicky realised too late, just the slide of bare, hard flesh.

Nicky gasped, thrusting up, the intrusion intense after so many days without. He slid against Mark's stomach, the sensation too much. Fingers linked in the back of his head, cradling him, pulling forward into another bruising kiss that took his breath away.

“Oh my god.” Mark managed finally. They'd been still for long minutes, just kissing, both trying to get themselves under control. Nicky could feel Mark's heartbeat against him, inside him, the rapid, thrumming pulse echoing his. “You okay?”

“I'm very, very okay.” Nicky dragged in a breath. Mark was pushing onto his chest, making it hard to breathe. He didn't care. “I'm borderline excellent.”

“I was going for amazing.”

“Oh, we passed that years ago.” Nicky smiled at the affectionate laugh he got. “I really missed you.”

“It was only, like, twelve hours.”

“No, not today. Just...” Nicky touched his face, felt Mark push into the touch. “This week has been...” He shook his head. “I don't want to talk about it. I just want you.”

“I know. Understand.” Mark shifted a little bit, bracing himself on his elbows. “I missed you too. In case you hadn't noticed.” He fingered a love bite on Nicky's collarbone. “I'm sorry, these are probably going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Good. I can feel you all day at work.” Nicky kissed his nose. Mark's forehead pressed to his, his hips starting to move. Nicky gasped, grabbing at him. “Oh, don't stop doing that.” Mark made a sound of agreement, mouth brushing against Nicky's. Nicky kissed him back, feeling his nerves sing, feeling Mark speed up, the thrusts coming harder and faster, the kisses more desperate.

“You feel amazing.” Mark whispered. “Want you. Mine. All mine.”  
  
“All yours.” Nicky agreed, feeling Mark near the edge. He was trembling, his hands clenching in the sheets, his teeth bumping Nicky's lip as his kiss got more unfocused and sloppy. “All mine.” Nicky murmured, holding him close, feeling Mark shudder.

“All yours. God, all yours. Nix...” He cried out, and Nicky swallowed his sobbing release, feeling liquid heat rush into him. He tightened his legs on Mark's waist, holding them together, grinding against his stomach. A hand pushed between them, stroking him while Mark continued thrusting, mewling and whimpering against Nicky's lips. He felt tight and desperate, was still coming when Nicky's orgasm started, rushing over Mark's hand, his mouth sealed to Mark's, trying to breathe him in, suck in everything he was, everything that belonged to Nicky. To tell him... something. Everything. That he was Nicky's. That he was loved. That he was everything Nicky had ever wanted. That Nicky would never let him get hurt, that he would do everything he could, anything it took.

That he was frightened that it wouldn't be enough.


	8. Monday Again

Mark laughed, feeling Nicky mould to his back while he pushed the buttons on the microwave. He was still naked, his hair still wet from the shower. Hands clawed at the towel wrapped around his waist. Mark slapped them away, laughing.

“You can't be ready to go again.”

“Just want you naked.” Nicky pouted, and Mark turned around to kiss him. Pad Thai at one in the morning seemed like a grand idea, especially considering he wasn't exactly sleepy. He'd barely moved all day, and now he was full of nervous energy, hopped up on sex and being so ridiculously in love he couldn't cope. Nicky gave him a lopsided, teasing smile, and yanked the towel off, dropping it to the floor. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“Better?”

“So much better.” Nicky agreed. Mark kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that only stopped when the microwave beeped. He pulled the food out and went to sit on the couch, putting a towel down under him. Having sex in Kian's bed was one thing, but sitting naked on his couch was too weird. Nicky leant against him, snuggling in and reaching over to steal some noodles. Mark scooped some up, pushing them obligingly into Nicky's open mouth.

“Kian brought our stuff?”

“He did.” Mark nodded, gesturing at the sports bag still on the living room floor. “I have clean clothes now.”  
  
“That's great. Did he bring my files?” Nicky reached out for the bag, and Mark watched him rummage through, saw his hand settle on the balled-up socks for a moment and squeeze before casually grabbing a pair of pyjama bottoms. He didn't put them on, just put them over the socks and zipped the bag back up again. Mark almost laughed out loud, feeling himself glow.

“He did. Yeah.” Mark pointed at the cardboard box in the hall. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

Mark put a hand on his shoulder, twisting Nicky to look at him. Nicky grinned, pushing into his touch.

“Thank you.”

He felt Nicky stiffen, then relax. Mark smiled, trying to keep it light. Tried not to let on.

“Ehm... for what?”

“Just... everything.” He felt Nicky shiver slightly against him. “You cold?”

“Yeah, should probably get dressed.” Nicky snuggled in, his skin sliding against Mark's. Mark ran his hand down his shoulder, watching it move over the love-bites he'd pressed to his skin in a moment of passion. He hadn't done that since he was a teenager, had always thought it was juvenile and silly, but he'd needed it, in that moment. To mark Nicky. To make him his. “Don't want to. Want to sit here and feel you.”

Mark put his food down on the table, then reached forward to the bag. “I'll get you some socks or something. I think I saw...”

“No, don't...” Nicky started, then he paused, looking at Mark. Realisation bled into his face. He bit his lip, voice breaking on a trembling sigh. “This... isn't the right time.”

“For socks?”

“For...” Nicky swallowed, covered his face with his hands, and when he looked back up his eyes were red. Mark felt his heart ache. “Everything so fucked up at the moment. It's... it's awful. I don't want...” His eyes filled with tears. Mark took his hand, kissing the fingertips so Nicky couldn't cover his face again. “I want everything to be perfect.”

Mark pulled him in, felt Nicky shake against him. “Nix, it's easy to love you when everything's good, but do you know when I love you the most?” He felt Nicky shake his head. “When everything's awful. When it's fucking atrocious and the world's crashing in and I don't know what to do with myself, and you're always there for me. Just being you. And everything's pretty awful right now. And I don't think I've ever loved you or needed you more.” He felt Nicky shake against him, the rolling shift of his back when he let out a sob.

Mark bent, kissing his tears away, tasting salt on Nicky's lips while Mark whispered into his mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.” Nicky kissed him back, his fingers threading through his hair. Mark remembered they were both naked, sitting on a towel, that the room was full of the smell of Thai food, that they had just had sex in a friend's bed because they were hiding from a world gone totally wrong around them.

“Thank you.” He murmured. He felt Nicky heave in response, cling to him, and he reached out to hook the handle of the bag with his toe, dragging it closer and pulling a hand free of Nicky's embrace so he could unzip it. He pulled out the ball of socks, unwrapping it one handed, then extricated himself to kneel down on the floor.

“Shit.” He heard Nicky whisper, his arms still around Mark's shoulders. Mark laughed, his eyes catching the purple bitemarks all over Nicky's body.

“I will absolutely marry you.” He confirmed, yelping delightedly when Nicky leaped at him, landing on top of him and pushing him to the floor, kissing him hard.

 

*

 

Nicky nuzzled Mark's chest. He wasn't sure how long they'd been laying here, but he didn't much care. Hands were stroking his back, a pointed chin rested on his forehead. At some point Mark had grabbed a cushion off the couch and slid it under his own head.

“You gonna put this thing on, or what?” Mark asked. Nicky laughed, reaching into the box and pulling the larger ring out, sliding it onto Mark's finger. Mark kissed his forehead, then pushed the smaller ring onto Nicky's finger, kissing it when he was done. “Perfect.”

“It is, yeah.” Nicky sighed. “You scared the shit out of me there.”

“Sorry, didn't mean to steal your thunder.”  
  
“You didn't. Shit.” Nicky looked up, catching a dark blue gaze that wrapped around him like smoke. He breathed it in, not wanting to ever get up. Fingers tickled the back of his neck, stroking. “I had a speech and everything.”

“Tell me.”

“Seems a bit pointless now.” Nicky admitted. “You already said yes.”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

Nicky snorted. “I dunno. Been working on the bloody thing for about a year. It's changed so many times I...”

“A _year?_ ” Mark gasped. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Nicky shrugged, avoiding Mark's shocked stare. “Dunno. Thought it was too soon, and then it never felt like the right time and I kept bottling it.”

“Jesus.” Mark laughed, his body shaking under Nicky. “Well I'm sort of glad I found it then. Otherwise you'd be proposing at the old folks home and I'd be so senile I'd have forgotten who you were.”

“That was the plan.”

“Quality plan, sorry I ruined it.” Mark kissed his forehead. “But we need to get up in a minute because this floor's killing my spine.”

Nicky got up, reluctantly, and reached out to grasp Mark's hand, tugging him up too. Mark winced, putting a hand on his lower back, then began to shuffle to the bedroom. Nicky followed, not wanting to let him out of sight for a minute. Not for the rest of his life. Mark grabbed some pyjama bottoms and tugged them on. Nicky pouted.

“Don't look like that, I'm cold.” Mark smirked, bending in to kiss Nicky's nose. “You happy?”

“I'm so happy I can't figure out how to say it.” Nicky admitted. The kiss moved from his nose to his mouth. He reeled Mark in, feeling their bodies press together. “Part of me thinks I might have fallen asleep at the office and am dreaming this whole thing.”

“So what was your speech, then?”

“I love you. I need you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Nicky shrugged. It all felt a bit feeble now, with Mark warm and comforting in his arms, Nicky's ring on his finger. “The usual. I don't know. I don't know how to say how much I love you. It's too... big.” He finished. He reached down for a pair of tracksuit pants from the floor and tugged them on. Mark was right, it was cold. He watched Mark tug a t-shirt over his head and did the same, pulling them back together when they were both dressed, leaning against his fiance.

Mark kissed his cheek, holding him close, guiding him out of the bedroom. Nicky reached out to flick off the bedroom light, the room plunged into sudden darkness.

Orange light flickered at the ceiling for a moment, stark against the shadows. There was a soft, crackling pop. Mark pulled away, looking out the window for the source of the light. Nicky heard him swear, then run from the bedroom.

He looked out the window.

His car was on fire.

 

*

 

Mark had only just opened the door and Nicky was already through it, down the stairs despite Mark's warnings. He'd seen enough movies to be sure the thing was about to burst into a explosive fireball. He followed Nicky down the stairs, trying not to trip over his own feet. Yanked his shirt off on the way down, wrapping it around his own hand. Sank his fist into the glass over the fire-extinguisher, feeling the impact all the way up his arm, glass scratching his wrist, and yanked it free, following Nicky into the street, already fumbling with the handle.

“Get back.” He called out. But Nicky wasn't there. Was running down the street. Mark paused, torn between following him and putting out the fire. He did that first, smashing the passenger window with the butt of the extinguisher so he could get to it, feeling heat push like a hand against his bare chest. It seemed to just be the interior, hadn't made it a anywhere near the petrol-tank, and it was out fairly quickly, but the interior was wrecked. He could see a rag shoved through the top of the driver's side window, burnt to a black crisp and stinking of lighter fluid. The metal around it was warped, and with the passenger window broken Mark could smell more lighter fluid. He backed away just in time to see Nicky come running back down the street.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine. Where the fuck did you go?” His voice cracked on the last word. Nicky stopped, panting, hands on his knees.

“Car. Chased it. Number plate.” Nicky gasped out an explanation. He blurted out a number, and Mark tried to commit it to memory. “Girl. Glasses. You know. Driving.” He dragged in a deep, sucking breath, standing up to put his hand over his heaving chest. “Oh my god, I'm unfit.”

Mark pulled him in, feeling Nicky's shaking body lean against his bare chest. A few heads were poking out windows now, but not as many as expected. One was on her phone, hopefully calling the fire department. He supposed it was past two in the morning, and it had all been over pretty quickly and quietly. Mark couldn't believe how fast it had been. His eyes stung with tears from the smoke, and he pulled Nicky away, covering his mouth with his arm. Nicky coughed.

“Number plate?”

Nicky repeated it back to him. Mark echoed it, trying to get it lodged in his head.

“Upstairs. Police.” He ordered. Nicky nodded, tugging them toward the stairs with a last, lingering look at his warped, blackened car.

 

*

 

It looked even worse in the dawn light.

Nicky sat on the front stoop, watching the police and firemen buzz about, taking photos and writing things down. His car wasn't a shell, far from it, but the inside was black and burnt, the metal around the windows flaking in pitiful grey ashes. The seats were a mess of charred vinyl and crisped foam. It was being towed, taken to some police impound lot, and Nicky was honestly kind of glad. He didn't think he could look at it any longer without crying.

Mark was talking to the police, gesturing at the car. He'd put on jeans and a t-shirt at some point, had made Nicky get dressed too. Nicky couldn't remember. All he could see was his burnt car and the bandage on Mark's arm where one of the paramedics had wrapped it up. It wasn't bad, or at least Mark wasn't complaining, but like the car it was proof that things weren't right.

He played with the ring on his finger for a moment, watching the diamonds sparkle in the first glow of dawn. Mark glanced to where he was sat, waving him over while the officer walked away, and Nicky stood on shaky legs, heading towards him.

“They're checking the license plate now.” Mark said, pulling Nicky close. “I'm so sorry about your car.”

“Not your fault.” Nicky sighed, remembering that not five hours ago he'd been totally ecstatic, wrapped up in Mark and feeling the best he had in his whole life. “I'm just glad you're okay.”

“I'm glad _you're_ okay.” Mark echoed. “You great bloody action hero, chasing cars down the road like that.” He snorted, and Nicky had to smile when a kiss touched his hair. “It was very cool.”

“You put the fire out, you mad bastard.” Nicky turned in, not wanting to be too affectionate in the middle of the street, but not minding when a hand slipped into his, squeezing. “This is why you're the sensible one.”

“God, I hope I'm not the sensible one.” Mark laughed. “We'd be completely fucked in a real crisis.”

“No, you're fine.” Nicky pulled back to look at him. “And this isn't a real crisis?”

“You're alive. I'm alive.” Mark shrugged. “If I think about it too much I'm going to go hysterical. But we're both alive.” He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. “One thing at a time, yeah?”

Nicky nodded, feeling how Mark was trembling, the barely contained fright and frustration. He knew, he felt the same. He collapsed back into Mark for a moment, hugging him tight, feeling the ache when a large bite on his hip pushed into Mark's leg. He wriggled against it, trying to focus on the sensation of belonging, of being owned.

“Hey, lads?”

Nicky pulled away to look at Officer Andy, who'd been buzzing around with the rest of the police all morning. Nicky hadn't really gotten to speak to him, had been too wrapped up in not having a sudden screaming fit in the middle of a crime scene. Kian's house. A crime scene. Neighbours kept coming out to have a look. Nicky's legs wanted to disappear out from under him. He felt like Mark's arm around his waist was the only thing holding him up.

“We've tracked it. Not sure if the car's stolen or not, we've sent someone over there to check it out now. Running background on the owner, so hopefully we'll have something soon. You okay?”

They said they were and thanked him. Nicky went back to sit on the step, not letting Mark's arm leave his waist.

 

*

 

Shane and Kian showed up not long after five. Kian was leaping out of the car before it had even stopped rolling and was hugging them before Shane had closed the door and begun to walk over, glancing at the charred road where Nicky's car had not long ago been parked.

Mark nodded a hello, letting Shane wrap him in a tense hug and nodding when Shane asked if he was okay. He wasn't, really, but what else were you supposed to say? He felt overstretched and exhausted, terrified beyond all reason. He hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, Nicky kept randomly bursting into tears, and his arm was throbbing under the bandage. So yeah, he was okay.

Kian was just releasing Nicky from a hug. Mark looked over, catching his partner's eyes. Nicky looked back, not smiling. Took his hand. Mark felt the ring slide under his touch, smooth and real.

“Huh.” Kian let out a breath, laden with surprise. When Mark looked up, he was staring at their joined hands. “Gonna take a wild guess and say you shagged on my bed.” Mark squeezed Nicky's hand, feeling himself blush.

“Er... might have.” Kian raised an eyebrow, then laughed.

“You fucking idiots. Yeah, okay. Congratulations, I guess.” He reached out to hug Nicky again, kissing his cheek. Mark laughed, holding up his hand to show Shane what Kian had noticed. Shane's eyebrows just about climbed into the back of his head, then he burst out laughing, grabbing Mark in a hug as well.

 

*

 

Mark was dozing against Nicky's side when Officer Andy knocked on the door. Kian went over to open it. It was almost eight in the morning. Shane had just left to open up shop for the day. Kian was supposed to be working too, but considering his house was flooded with police, there really wasn't much point him going in.

Nicky was glad – it was nice having someone here, someone familiar and comforting that wasn't Mark. They were too fragile, the two of them together, and having someone calm to talk to them was a big help, even if they weren't doing much talking since Mark nodded off on Nicky's shoulder, his eyes sunken in his tired, slack face.

“Hey lads.” Andy said quietly. Mark stirred against Nicky's shoulder. “Sorry, we're going to have to wake him.”

“It's okay.” Nicky whispered back. “Give me a minute, yeah? He's wrecked. Kian, can you make coffee?”

Kian nodded, heading into the kitchen. Nicky listened to him moving around, the hiss of water boiling. He looked back at Andy.

“Do we know something?”

The officer nodded, glancing at Mark, who was settling back in, huffing out a big, exhausted breath in his sleep.

“Is it good or bad?”

“I think it's good.” Andy shook his head.

Nicky nodded, stroking Mark's hair gently, trying to pull him out of sleep as carefully as possible. Mark sighed, rubbing his face into Nicky's neck before cracking open an eye. He yawned, hugely, his gaze catching on the officer, his mouth quirking closed in an embarrassed smile.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“You did, it's okay.” Nicky murmured. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes please.” Mark sat up, running a hand through his hair. It was messy and tangled. His cheeks were flushed. There was a wrinkled line on his forehead where it had been pressed into Nicky's shirt. He looked gorgeous. Kian came back with four coffees, setting them down on the table. “Sorry. What's going on?”

Andy held out a picture. Nicky recognised it. It was the same one he'd emailed the day before, the man who had come to their door. Mark squinted at it.

“Who's that?”

“That is Archie Sullivan. It was his car you saw driving away.” Andy pushed out another photo, this one a mug shot. Same guy. Nicky nodded.

“That's him. I saw him yesterday. He was looking for you at work.”

“You didn't say.”

“I just thought he was a client or something, and honestly...” Nicky sneaked a look at Officer Andy, trying to put this delicately. “...you weren't really up for a chat when I got in.” Colour bled into Mark's cheeks, and Nicky kissed one, feeling the heat under his lips. “But that's not the same car I saw at work.”

“No, that belongs to his girlfriend.” Andy held out another photo. Long, stringy hair, thin. No sunglasses this time, just angry green eyes. Another mugshot. Nicky pursed his lips, looking at her face. He still didn't know her. “Amy O'Shea.”

“O'Shea...” Mark said slowly. He sat up, pulled the photo out of Andy's hand to stare at it. “Is...”

“She's his sister.” Andy confirmed.

“What am I missing?” Nicky asked, looking between the two of them. Mark was biting his lip, his eyebrows knitted while he looked at the photo.

“Jesus.” Mark barked out a humourless laugh. “Killian fucking O'Shea. Are you serious? I thought he was in fucking prison!”

“He is. We've got people in talking to him now, trying to get a statement. It appears his sister had been making fairly regular visits before his visitation was suspended because of his violent behaviour. She and her boyfriend are in custody now.”

“Fucking hell.” Mark stood, began to pace. Nicky watched him, realisation starting to set in. He hadn't really heard the guy's name before. The guy who had beat the shit out of Mark, raped him brutally and then left him, bleeding and tied to the toilet. Mark's face was white, his eyes dark and stormy. Nicky reached up a hand to touch him, felt Mark walk past it. Kian was staring at both of them. Nicky realised that he probably didn't know Mark's history, was probably more confused than Nicky was.

“So what you're saying is...” Nicky started, trying to make sense of it. “This fucking... rapist... got his sister and her boyfriend to fucking stalk us because... because what? He blames Mark? For what? For him being a fucking psychopath? Shit, I was pretty sure he was already a psychopath before he tied my fucking boyfriend to the floor and...” He trailed off. He couldn't say it, not out loud. It was too awful. Kian's eyes were huge, staring at Mark while he continued to pace and swear.

“We don't know yet. We're still talking to him. To them. It could be that they were doing this of their own accord. Some sort of revenge...” Andy shrugged. “We'll let you know when we find out.”

“Fuck.” Nicky stood too, going to stand in front of Mark and collecting him on the way past, felt him struggle for a bit and then relax into it, shaking. Or maybe Nicky was shaking. Or maybe they both were.

“Is...” Mark swallowed hard, his face buried in Nicky's shoulder. “Is it over? Are we safe?”

“I don't know.” Nicky replied honestly. “But I've got you.”

He felt Mark nod against him, shivering in Nicky's arms.

 

*

 

There wasn't much else to do but wait. Mark tried to go back to sleep. He knew how exhausted he was, could feel the weariness in his bones, but his mind kept tripping over itself trying to make sense of the whole thing. Plus people kept handing him cups of coffee, so that didn't really help. Nicky sat beside him the whole time, holding him, stroking his hair. Mark couldn't move away. Nicky was his anchor. He was sure that if Nicky walked away, even for a moment, he would just float away like a cloud in a puff of wind. He even followed him into the bathroom, sitting on the shower step while Nicky used the toilet. He resisted the urge to hold his hand, but it was difficult to stop himself.

The police went away, came back to take more pictures, went away again. Kian made them lunch, but Mark couldn't eat it. The smell made him feel sick. For the first time in almost three years he was having flashbacks, rough fingers on his skin, the slick slide of blood under his head. The darkness and the pain that he'd pushed away long years ago, that Nicky had scrubbed from his soul, was back and worse than ever, itching at his mind and making him want to scream.

He threw up. It was almost two, and Nicky had been dozing against his shoulder, his face gaunt and white against Mark's neck, when Mark just couldn't take it. Kian was saying something pointless, and then Mark was on his knees over the toilet while Nicky rubbed his shoulders, making soothing noises. He knew it was probably fatigue, lack of food, and sheer terror combined, but rationality didn't make the hot, useless heaving any better, once he'd emptied out last night's Pad Thai and was just throwing up stomach acid. He fell asleep after that, or maybe he passed out, but when he woke up he was on the bed with Nicky wrapped around him, light snores puffing on the back of his neck.

He rolled over, pressing into Nicky's touch, smiling apologetically when blue eyes fluttered open to meet his.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Don't worry.” Nicky smiled back, caressing his cheek. “You feel better?”

“Yeah, I dunno. Feel gross.” Mark licked his teeth experimentally, tasting vomit in his mouth. He winced. Nicky kissed him anyway. “Anything interesting happen?” Nicky shook his head, stroking his hair back from his face. Mark realised how sweaty and horrible he was, and pulled back a little bit, not wanting Nicky to feel it. Nicky pushed in anyway, kissing him again, running a thumb under his eye.

“You're gorgeous.” Nicky murmured, nuzzling his clammy cheek, fingers sliding through hair that felt stringy and greasy.

A head poked in the door. Kian. He gave them a tentative smile.

“Sorry, garda's here. They want to talk to you.”

Mark nodded, sitting up.

“I need a shower or something.”

“Do you want to go have one while I talk to the police?” Nicky asked softly, sitting up next to him and pulling him into a hug. Mark shook his head. No, as much as he wanted to go stand under the hot water for ever, wash away everything that had happened, he needed to know what was going on. Needed to know this thing was done before he could ever feel clean again.

They went out. Andy was there and a couple of other gardai, an older man and a younger woman. Mark nipped into the bathroom to quickly brush his teeth, settling down next to Nicky on the couch when he was done.

It was confirmed. The graffiti had been Archie – they'd found pink spray-paint cans in the back of his car, and he had already admitted to taking a number of the polaroid shots they'd sent, and making the bomb she'd put on their doorstep. The rest appeared to be Amy, who he claimed had been angry that – and the police were quoting here – “some fucking faggot whore contaminated my brother”. Never mind that Mark hadn't been the first victim, it had been him that had led to the guy being caught and that was enough, especially with Killian claiming he'd been forced into it, that the prostitutes he'd beaten and raped had made him do it.

Because that wasn't mental at all.

She was staying tight-lipped, but Archie had thrown her under the bus almost immediately. Setting the car on fire, the rock through the window, the phone call from the booth near their house – all Amy. The handwriting on the photos was hers. She had followed Nicky from work the night before to find out where they were. She had no prior criminal record, wasn't on drugs, was just some complete mental who had decided to take her brother's particular brand of warped self-loathing to heart.

They made a pair, Mark could give them that.

They were in custody, would be staying there until they went to court in a few months time for property damage and harassment, though the car and the firebomb on their doorstep would probably get them the conviction, considering the amount of collateral damage that could have resulted. There was some hope that they could go for attempted murder, but the gardai were honest about their chances. That the pair of them would probably be out in a few years.

He didn't realise he was shaking until Nicky put his arm around him.

The police left. Mark got in the shower. Nicky sat on the edge of the sink , his back against the mirror. When Mark got out he felt cleaner. Nicky towelled him off, messing his hair up into random spikes before smoothing it all down again and kissing him. Mark pressed close, feeling the tension leave his muscles for the first time all day.

It was late by the time they were all snuggled up on the couch, watching bad sitcoms. Jake came round with pizza, and they sat in relative silence. The stillness was odd after the last twenty-four hours. Mark felt like he should be doing something, like he had boundless energy and none at once. There wasn't much to do.

He touched the ring on his finger, leaning into Nicky. A hand stroked through his hair, comforting.

“It's over, right?” He said softly. Nicky kissed his forehead, and he turned into it, tilting his face up to meet Nicky's lips.

“Yeah, I think so.” Nicky replied, smiling at him. There was a knock on the door. Shane came in, followed by Annie and the lads from the night shift. Shane touched them affectionately on the head as he went past, then curled up on the couch by their feet. Blarney stole a slice of pizza, and Liam sat down with Rowen on the carpet, accepting the beer Anton handed him, their arms around each other. Annie poured a glass of red wine, then passed round the bottle. Nicky swigged from it, pressing it into Mark's hand once he was done.

“Can we go back home tomorrow?”

“We can go back tonight if you like.”

Mark took a swig of the wine, looked around at his friends. Anton was laughing loudly at something Kian was saying. Blarney was sitting next to Rowen, elbowing him. Shane was glancing at Mark and Nicky, an indefinable smile on his face.

“No.” He said. “I'm good here for now.”


	9. Later

“I ever said you look hot in navy?”

Mark laughed, pushing away Nicky, who pouted. Mark didn't know how much champagne they'd had, but it was a fair bit and Nicky was getting to be the kind of affectionate that wasn't exactly appropriate with his parents in the room.

“You've said it three times in the last hour.” He replied, tugging Nicky back in for a kiss. Hands squeezed his back. “Just like I've said you look gorgeous in purple.” He let his hands drift over the tuxedo jacket, feeling Nicky's hands slide underneath his own. “I'm glad we didn't go with black.”

“Me too. Boring.” Nicky agreed, kissing his chin, beginning to sway to the music. Mark could see his mother over Nicky's shoulder and lifted a hand in a wave. She waved back, laughing at something with Nicky's mam. They'd both cried through the whole ceremony, but were looking a lot more upbeat with glasses of wine in front of them.

“We're never boring.”

“No, definitely not.” Nicky reached out to snag another flute from the waiter going past. “Hey, look, champagne.”

“You're like a wizard.”

“I'm the Harry Potter of getting casually drunk.” Nicky confirmed. “But not as drunk as your brother. I think he's throwing up in the bushes outside.”

“There's always one.” Mark laughed. “And of course it had to be my best man. I'd be annoyed, but at least he's taking care of Saffy while we're on the honeymoon.”

“I don't know that I'd trust him.” Nicky shook his head. For all his reluctance, Mark suspected Nicky loved the pug even more than he did. More than once he'd caught them asleep on the couch together, snoring in rhythm. “My best man's on top form.” Nicky gestured at Shane. Mark turned to look. He was dancing with a bunch of the kids. There was a little girl standing on his feet while they turned slowly, another girl jumping up and down excitedly, waiting for her turn. “He should open a creche.”

“Yeah.  Bit of a career change.” They fell into silence, Mark sinking into the feeling of his husband pressed warm and real against him, breathing in time with him while they danced. “I love you. I don't fucking remember what I said in the vows, but I'm sure the gist was that I love you.”

“More or less, yeah.” Nicky replied, looking up. Their lips connected. Mark smiled into the kiss, loving that he could have this for the rest of his life. Nicky's free hand slipped under his jacket again, pulling them close, his glass pressed against Mark's chest. Mark stole it, taking a sip before handing it back. “Can we have cake yet?”

“No.” Mark laughed. “Everyone's still on the appetisers.”

“Don't care, it's my wedding.”

“Ours, you mean.”

“Yeah, same thing.” Nicky grinned. “Do me a favour? Just a little one.”

Mark nodded, leaning into Nicky, feeling them pressed together. He pecked at Nicky's nose, slipped his hands under the purple tuxedo jacket. Felt warm skin push into his touch. Nicky caressed his cheek, the champagne flute pressing cold against his skin, his empty hand stroking up Mark's back.

“Stay. For the rest of my life.”

Mark chuckled, feeling himself glow.

“I can do that.”


End file.
